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Scripture:

Exodus 11:10-12:14
Matthew 12:1-8

Reflection:

We celebrate the value of ritual today.  Ritual itself is celebration, so we are celebrating the value of celebrating.  And most of us appreciate why we do this: ritual adds pomp and circumstance to a series of movements whose repetitiveness otherwise generates boredom in onlookers.  An example of this is a marching military parade.  The rhythmic cadence of coordinated marching has its own beauty, whether accompanied by musical instruments or not.  But even in this instance there can be too much of a good thing.

Another familiar venue for the performance of ritual is religious ceremony, which in the case of Roman Catholics and Greek Orthodox, among others, is prominent.  Admittedly, the military version of ritual exerts a stronger attraction on most observers than religious cult does, but the latter has its strong points that merit our attention.  This is evident in our biblical readings today.

For instance, we are reminded of the Passover meal ritual at the center of the Holy Thursday Eucharistic meal.  In recent years it has regained something of its earlier fascination for participants in this ritual.  Part of this carries over from the original Passover meal vividly described in the biblical book of Exodus recalling how God directed every Hebrew family in Egypt to procure a lamb for itself, slaughter it, and make a meal of it to be consumed in the course of the evening.  This has come to be known as the Passover meal, because the avenging angel of death, sent by God, was to pass over every household whose entrance way is daubed with the blood of a lamb just recently slain.  But any household in the land of Egypt that failed to mark its doorway in this manner would be visited by the angel of death.  Certainly the people of that era were mesmerized by the power of this ritual.

A version of this practice has passed over into our Paschal celebration of Holy Thursday.  Obviously we don’t slaughter an animal, and then spread its blood over our door lintels, but we do use narrative and song recalling the message of the original paschal meal: that it is salvific, saving us from the power of evil because we have access to the eucharistic blood of Christ, vastly superior to the blood of a lamb  employed by the ancient Jews this self-same evening.  So this is not a dead ritual but a life-giving and saving one.  On Holy Thursday we should resonate to this as we do to the rhythm of marching feet of military personnel.

A similar situation is found in the gospel narrative today.  Again, it tries to move us out of the dry archives of history to enliven our interest in another ritual practice in which we Catholics engage: we keep our consecrated hosts in the safe interior of the tabernacles that adorn our altars.  We are careful, cautious and protective of the hosts that have been “consecrated” at a mass, a number of which often remain, following the mass.  So we carefully place these within the tabernacle, in a way that somewhat corresponds to the ancient Jewish practice of its priesthood protecting what they call “the bread of offering” within their temple.  While their bread does not correspond to our notion of consecrated hosts, it did enjoy the same kind of respect, which is provided by their priests.  It is this bread to which Jesus refers today when He defended His hungry disciples shucking corn in the fields to satisfy their hunger on a Sabbath day—a forbidden activity as the Jews practiced the Sabbath.   Jesus justified His disciples doing this, recalling how the great king David defended his hungry followers, similarly criticized, for eating the holy bread preserved in the temple area, and doing so on the Sabbath.  In each case we see a present need (the hunger of Jesus’ followers and of David’s soldiers) in dialogue with ritual rules to show that they don’t necessarily get in the way, or prove useless, but enable us to show our reverence for things that matter, while still adjustable to our needs.  So ritual is not necessarily archaic or useless.  It provides us access to an important part of our lives, but it can be adjusted when there is a need to do so.

Fr. Sebastian MacDonald, C.P. is a member of the Passionist Community in Louisville, Kentucky.

Scripture:

Exodus 3: 13-20
Matthew 11: 28-30

Reflection:

Our first reading today from Exodus continues the story of the call of Moses.  The dialogue between God and Moses is truly a striking one.  Moses knows that the Hebrew people in Egypt will have little reason to believe that God has sent him; much less will they automatically put their trust in him.  So he asks for God’s name so he can tell the people who it was that sent him to them.  God’s response to Moses is, “tell them that I AM has sent me to you.”  I AM, the one who is always present to you, who is always with you, who knows the pain of your suffering.  Moses is coming to the people, not on behalf of someone who is far away but on behalf of someone who is right now with them in every way.  And God goes on to say that “they will heed you.”  And heed Moses they did…as we shall see as the story unfolds.

The beautiful passage from today’s Gospel puts an interesting gloss on our first reading.  Jesus invites everyone who is burdened to come to him and to learn from him. He assures them that in him they will find rest for his “yoke is easy and (his) burden light.”  I can’t help but wonder how Moses would have heard these words of Jesus.  I doubt that Moses found the yoke and burden placed on his shoulders easy or light.  He struggled for forty years to fulfill the charge that God had given him.

Yet we know from the rest of the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus shared in the name of God that Moses received.  Just like the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Jesus was and is right here with us.  He is not far away but has fully shared our human experience, knows our sufferings, remains with us still in his Word, in the Eucharist and in the Church.  It is surely Christ’s continued presence with us that eases the burdens we carry.

So, today we are reminded that God is still with us in every part of our lives just as God was present to Moses, to the Hebrew slaves in Egypt, in Jesus walking among us and in Jesus still with us.  We know the name of God in the deepest part of our being.

Fr. Michael Higgins, C.P. is the director of Mater Dolorosa Passionist Retreat Center, Sierra Madre, California.

Scripture:

Exodus 3:1-6, 9-12
Matthew 11:25-27

Reflection:

At that time Jesus exclaimed: “I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike.” Matthew 11:25

Last Sunday, I had the privilege of celebrating Mass and preaching at the Cathedral of our Lady of the Angels, in Los Angeles, California. Officially, it has the capacity to seat about 3,000 people. As I walked up the aisle to begin Mass, I saw that it was almost full. I celebrated the weekly Sunday Spanish Mass. I felt overwhelmed by awe and energized at the very same time. Everything is so well organized. Everything was scripted: where to stand at the beginning of Mass, which of the Celebrant Chairs to use, how communion was to be distributed under both forms, and so forth. The Cathedral also had a Masters of Ceremonies that would anticipate my next move and be there to confirm my spot or gently lead me to where I needed to go.

I was there to preach what we call a “Mission Appeal,” to ask parishioners to support our mission efforts as a Province. I think it went well. The main point of my message is contained in a story of a child who was just beginning grade school, in one of the poor villages in India. She ended up by evangelizing me, even though she was not Christian and not one of the “learned and the wise” of her generation.

At the end of Mass, the custom at the Cathedral is for the priest to stand outside and receive the people. It is there that I continue to be evangelized by the people who come to hear the Word of God and receive the Body and Blood of Jesus in Communion. Most of the people who stopped by to greet me, young and old alike, are people who are worried about their future, their family, about their health, about their status in this country, about their marriage, in other words, people who are suffering and turn to God in faith for a blessing and for affirmation. They are people who are about to go into the hospital, who have just gotten out of the hospital, who are going back home to another country, wondering if they will ever get back, and yet, they are people of great faith.

One of the greatest challenges for people like me, educated with three degrees, serving the Church and Province in various ministries of responsibility, accumulating years of pastoral experience, is to allow myself to be evangelized. I have to stop myself from judging, offering simplistic solutions when I don’t even know the whole story, so I can be compassionated to someone else’s life experience.

We are given two powerful Biblical personalities in today’s readings: Moses and Jesus. Moses went from a privileged childhood in Pharaohs’ palace to a wandering outlaw, before God catches up to him and calls him: “Moses, Moses!” And Moses answers, “Here I am!” And God tells him, “The cry of the children of Israel has reached me.” It seems that God is being evangelized by the suffering of this world. God is moved to send them a savior, Moses.

Jesus is moved by the people who come up to him, crying for help, crying for healing. Jesus is being evangelized by the poor. And Jesus praises the poor, the oppressed, the suffering for coming to him, as being wiser and more learned than all of those educated people who disrespect them, discount them, dehumanizes them, just because they are not as wealthy, or educated, or socially acceptable as they are.

What do you think Jesus is saying about us?

Fr. Clemente Barrón, C.P. is a member of Christ the King Community in Citrus Heights, California. 

Scripture:

Isaiah 55:10-11
Romans 8:18-23
Matthew 13:1-23

Reflection:

The Gospel of Matthew has a series of seven parables. These are the high point of Matthew’s Gospel.  In this section everything is centered on the Kingdom of God.

Parables were a popular way in the orient, the Old Testament, and the teaching of the Rabbis. Parables are “sayings,” “metaphors”,” proverbs” or “similes.”   Examples of parables are: the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son, the Mustard Seed, etc.  Parables end with a cryptic statement that summons one to hear the all-powerful Word of God and act on it.

This Parable of the Soil is the only parable where Jesus interprets or gives a commentary on the deeper meaning of the parable!  In this parable the sower sows the seeds before it can be harvested.  Not all seeds bear fruit.  There are numerous reasons for this.  First, the seeds fall upon the pathway , Second the seed fall on rocky ground and cannot grow, Third, the seeds fall upon rich soil and takes root and multiplied

The emphasis in today’s parable focuses not on the seeds, nor the sower, but rather on the soil!  At this point of Matthew’s Gospel Jesus is preaching not only to His disciples but to the crowds.  This marks a new relationship that Jesus has with His followers.  The message is universal, i.e. for all.  It is a message of crises.  The time is short; the kingdom of God is at hand. Those who have ears, listen.  The theology of the Cross is being sharpened.

The message is clear.  Despite some failures, the soil ultimately succeeds.  The harvest grows.  There is no mention of the weather, i.e. rain, water, sun shine, etc.  This is a story of the inevitability of the Reign of God!  No matter the conditions the soil will yield success.

We have the power to thwart or divert the power of the Word.  Stewarts of life have the power to nurture life.  As stewards of life we need to nourish and care for the soil.  The average yield for a crop in the time of Jesus was 7.5 fold.  At the most 10 fold.  But here it is 100 fold! This is unheard of!  The point here is that success happens in spite of frustrations. The parable brings light and truth to those with faith.  The reign of God is made present in the ministry of Christ.

The Armenians have this understanding of parables.  “Three apples fall from a tree. The first is for the teller of the story, the second is for the listener of story, and the third is for the one who takes it to heart!

Carl Jung says that “greatest gifts of the human spirit are faith, hope, love and insight.”  Parables give us insight. Insight brings our lives together and helps us embrace the Reign of God.

Fr. Ken O’Malley, C.P., is the local superior at Holy Name Passionist Community in Houston, Texas.

Scripture:

Genesis 44:18-21, 23b-29, 45:1-5
Matthew 10:7-15

Reflection:

We pick up today’s Gospel towards the beginning of chapter 10 where Jesus commissions his Twelve Apostles, gives them authority to “cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, drive out demons” and then sends them out. Of particular note, are Jesus instructions to them to bring nothing on the journey—not even a walking stick!

Is Jesus really asking for total dependence on and even vulnerability to the “worthy” people or towns they will encounter? Maybe this sounds very risky to our minds and I wonder how we translate those instructions in our own times?

This sending is to the “lost sheep of the house of Israel” (v.5). Jesus, the Good Shepherd, is clear about who he has come to save. It will not be until post-resurrection (Matt 28) when the mission is expanded to all nations. Yet, the author of Matthew wants the Jews of his time to hear and take seriously the message proclaimed by the Apostles who were sent out from Jerusalem following Jesus’ assumption to the Father. We know from those early stories that the “pagans” or Gentiles heard the news and believed in much larger numbers. I believe the author here in this text is hoping to spark the flame of faith in the Jewish people—to whom he is primarily writing—to remind them that they are the Chosen People and Jesus is their Good Shepherd.

Of course, we know in Jesus final commissioning, he instructs his disciples to, “Go and baptize all nations.” By virtue of our baptism, we are all anointed Priest, Prophet and King; we are all called and sent.

Today, as I entered the grocery store to pick up a few items for dinner, I chuckled to myself at the thought of going around the aisles and proclaiming to shoppers, “The Kingdom of heaven is at hand.” Yet, that is exactly what I am to do! Although, I may be much more effective if I am kind and courteous…at the very least. Somewhere I remember hearing that I am my neighbor’s gospel.

“Without cost you have received, without cost you are to give.” How profound is that! I can share the love of God which has been lavished on me and it doesn’t cost anything….except maybe that I see beyond myself and my own needs. Perhaps, as I go about my day, I do not take along anything except the clothes I am wearing—no baggage from the day; no frustrations, anger or anxieties—just peace. Imagine we have the power to bring Christ’s peace to everyone—no exceptions.

We also need to remember to “shake the dust from our feet” every time we are rejected for trying to share that love. Jesus does NOT want anything to linger—let it go—all of it. Do not let it color your vision of mission. Brothers and sisters, let us live into this reality as we proclaim, the kingdom of heaven is at hand.

Come, Lord, Jesus! Amen

Jean Bowler is a retreatant at Mater Dolorosa Passionist Retreat Center in Sierra Madre, California, and a member of the Office of Mission Effectiveness Board of Holy Cross Province.

Scripture:

Genesis 32:23-33
Matthew 9:32-38

Reflection:

Jacob is heading home.  His journey though is littered with the wreckage of his deceiving his father, Isaac, his stealing the birthright from his twin brother Esau, competing wives, an avaricious uncle, and his own guilty conscience.  For Jacob, returning home means confronting his unresolved internal conflicts and troubled youthful past.

He is surrounded by wives, children, servants, herds, and great possessions.  But none of these can comfort the insecure boy within as he searches for the courage to face Esau, the great obstacle on the road home. He sends them away.

Jacob now stands alone at the Jabbok River, the spiritual divide between his youth and his adult self, between his doubts and his faith.  In Hebrew, the word jabbok is closely related to the word meaning “to wrestle.”  On the banks of this mysterious stream, Jacob meets a mysterious man, “Ish,” in the Hebrew.

Who is this “ish” who wrestles with Jacob on the riverbank?  Ish has many meanings.  It may mean a man, or angel or God.  Could ish be the ghost of Isaac?  Or Esau?  Maybe Ish is Jacob’s darker part of himself that doubts and fears?  Perhaps Ish is all of these — all true twins of Jacob.

Jacob wrestles through the night with Ish.  Finally, at dawn Ish announces Jacob’s new name, new spiritual identity: “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and men, and have prevailed.”

In confronting his demons rather than running from them, Jacob discovered that Ish is not someone to fear.  Ish is an angel of God who wrestled with Jacob throughout the night, a painful struggle to grow in faith, in spiritual and psychological maturity.

At dawn, Ish disappears.  But the struggle leaves Jacob with a limp.  No one goes through life without getting damaged.

Jacob’s story is our story.  Like Jacob, we are called to cross the Jabbok, cross the threshold from the uncertain and unsatisfactory, and to leave behind all possessions, all that we cling to in false security.  We are called to wrestle with Ish, our ghosts and demons.  We will not walk away unscathed, but with a limp.  It won’t matter, because we no longer will be running in fear, but walking in faith.

Our striving with Ish can transform us in our faith.  Only through life’s struggles will we discover that God is with us, even in suffering, in misfortune, in evil.  This is a loving God who even limps with us on our journey home.

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

Scripture:

Genesis 28:10-22a
Matthew 9:18-26

Reflection:

Today is absolutely glorious. I look out my window at leafy tree branches swaying in the breeze as birds take flight under a crystal blue sky dotted by cotton puff clouds. Days like this can take my breath away as I exclaim praises to the God of creation, whose deft hand is so visible in the glories of nature.

Then I get on the phone with Mom. She had been living independently ever since Dad died, with six of my nine siblings who live near her stopping in several times a week to visit or take her out. But now her dementia has progressed too far for her to live alone and none of us kids can take her into our homes for 24/7 care. We moved her into a wonderful, compassionate, bright and newly-opened memory care facility, with no change in the family visiting and outing schedule.

Now, though, she cannot leave the unit without having someone sign her out, she cannot drive, she has no stove or microwave, and she feels trapped. Worst of all, she doesn’t understand. She knows she isn’t as sharp as she used to be, but asserts there is nothing wrong with her that wouldn’t be cured if she could just get back to her own apartment and resume her independent life. She feels betrayed and abandoned, convinced we just don’t want to bother with her and so we’re inventing a scenario of incapacity to cruelly deprive her of the life she loves. She feels that her future is gone, awash in a world she no longer controls or has any say in. It is so hard to listen to her complain and weep, to empathize with kindness, and yet to know there is no other option. Gradually, this intelligent, capable, highly respected woman is losing the capacity for recent memory, rational thought, and planning ahead, and it will only get worse from here. As I hang up the phone, I am bereft of glory, my wonder at creation replaced with wondering where God is in this situation. Intellectually and by faith I know God is there, but where is that deft hand for Mom?

I sometimes speculate that this process will eventually be easier for Mom than it is for us. She is regressing, becoming younger and simpler over time as the complexities of life elude her. I suspect that over time she will revert to a child-like faith, relying on the God of love that she knows and feels all around her. Even at times when her eyes reveal the frightened child inside, one of her mantras has always been, “Jesus, I trust in you.” Increasingly, that will become the central core of her life, as she lets go of the expectations and responsibilities of this world and sinks into the divine embrace, until the time when she fully enters into and becomes one with it.

It is harder for us who love Mom and see her personhood diminishing inch by inch before our eyes. We long for what was, for the person and the parent we know her to be. We grieve mightily over the ravages of this disease, shedding many tears and hugs together. Underlying the difficulties, though, perhaps I can learn important lessons from Mom.

For instance:
Can I see the world and people with fresh eyes every day, open to discovery of something I hadn’t noticed before instead of thinking “Been-there-done-that?”

Can I gracefully accept my own diminishments as I age?

Can I accept what is and who Mom is becoming? In the process, can I broaden to release any expectations, control, and desires for other people to be the way I want them to be, more consciously and gently inviting who they are to emerge?

Can I allow the tears and grief while also reinforcing my trust in the divine embrace that holds me, too?

Can I learn to increasingly let go of the Mom I want so I can treasure the Mom I have, until the final letting go of her physical form?

Can I sometimes “regress”, leaving behind my informed theological understandings to recognize and accept the underlying, simple ways that God is truly present?

In my reverie, my gaze returns to the outside world. I think about the fact that trees make no demands of God. Clouds do not require explanation of where the wind blows them.  Birds build nests that get destroyed, and set out to build again. All of creation lives, ages, and eventually dies as one small part of the grander scheme of life. All are beloved of God. All are precious, no matter their capacity. All deserve respect and care. All seasons and times have their place.

I pray that God will continue to work in me to expand my heart, consciousness, and faith. I don’t think I’m there yet. I still want to hang on, to retain some control, to “fix” things, and to make Mom happy. I can too easily lose sight of the divine presence when I don’t feel it or when yet another loss faces me. But I want to reach the point at which no matter what happens with Mom, and no matter where I am in the world, I can join Jacob in declaring, “Truly, the LORD is in this spot, although I did not know it!” I pray that your eyes, too, may be ever opened to the deft and ever-present hand of our God.

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:

Zechariah 9:9-10
Romans 8:9, 11-13
Matthew 11:25-30

Reflection:

To the Merest Child
is Revealed the Father’s Love

Jesus is the fullness of wisdom; the Way, the Truth and the Life. He is the Son of the Father whom we meet as gentle and humble of heart. He refreshes us and gives us rest when we are burdened and weary. Like the Son of the Father, so our sons and daughters awaken in us values and truth.

We owe all little ones awesome respect for what they offer us. Sadly precious treasures are overlooked. The tragic number of infants who die in domestic violence, children caught in the crossfire of gang fights, the violation of the safety of schools, trafficking – the world of Charles Dickens or the coal mines of Pennsylvania of a century ago, bad though they were for children seem in second place to our present moment. And the above are overshadowed at least by volume when we see mothers in war torn countries or refuge camps with their malnourished children. Like Hagar who placed her son, Ishmael, under a tree and sat the distance of a bow shot away so she could not see him die of thirst, we sit and watch, we pray for a change, that God hears the cry of suffering and comes to our aid.

We hear the expression, ‘the tyranny of two’, implying that a third element is needed to get beyond impasses in life or to open new delights in love. (Some disagree saying the tricycle preceded the bicycle!). But with marriage as an example the love of two increases with a third, a baby. There is a gift given to parents, a gift they share together. The child is an object of their love, and also increases their love as mother and father which they share with one another. The burden and weary part of life, the yoke spoken of in the gospel are not unfamiliar to any couple who love one another, nor will their sons and daughters always lessen the weight of the burden they carry. We ask the grace to change what we can, accept what we cannot, and the wisdom to know the difference.

A friend of mine who enjoys a dinner out, a party and a little dancing has been laid up with a back problem. After two weeks of rehab he was able to join the celebration of a wedding and, while still hobbling along with a cane, attend the reception. A sad thing happen. As the dancing began he found himself alone at his table when everyone else took to the dance floor. As he sat there it seems all the limitations he had been suffering for several weeks, the inability to do his ministry, the pain itself, all of this came crashing down upon him. He wasn’t very good at hiding his feelings either nor was he aware that he was under the scrutiny of a five year old. The little boy had a new small truck that he was playing with, his latest acquisition and new favorite toy. The child went to his mother and ask if he cold give the truck to Father, because ‘he looked so sad’.

We may have the joy of being around children or only enjoy them in passing or from afar. We may be moved with sorrow and just indignation where we see a child suffering or denied the right to grow up as a happy individual. May we care for children and support parents and all who work and care for children. We need what they offer us. We see in them a way of knowing Jesus, God’s love. He shows us the Father who looks upon us and loves us, seeing in us what he sees and loves in his Son.

Fr. William Murphy, CP is the pastor of Immaculate Conception parish in Jamaica, New York.