Daily Scripture

Scripture:

Acts 3:1-10
Luke 24:13-35

Reflection:

Sitting here, sheltering at home, and thinking about today’s readings, I’ll admit to you; I have favorites.   And when it comes to favorite Gospel accounts, today’s Gospel certainly sits in the top three on my list.  Over the years, as I have heard, read, and prayed with this Gospel. It is extremely applicable to many people in numerous situations and stages of discipleship.

It is the classic story themed around how do you come to know Jesus, and how does Jesus lure you in? It is aligned with some of the other great stories we have just heard in this past Lenten cycle of Jesus, calling people into relationship and bringing that relationship to a very personal and meaningful culmination.   Some of these stories include the Sunday lenten Gospel accounts from John:  the woman at the well, the man born blind, and the relationship Jesus builds with Martha in the story of the raising of Lazarus.

For today, lets simply look at the progression of this Emmaus story.  First, Jesus is merely a stranger who began walking with these two.  It is Jesus who initiates the conversation by asking a simple question.  The two travelers repeat back to Jesus the story they believe.  And Jesus calls them both foolish.  Their stories and interpretations are not resurrection stories.  In fact, after hearing about the empty tomb, they chose to simply walk away. Listening as they recall their expectations, their memories of Jesus, and their interpretation of his death,  their language mimics their body posture.  Luke describes them as “looking downcast.”   Jesus then starts speaking to them about the fulfillment of the Messiah reinterpreting their well-known scriptures.  Certainly, no one has spoken to them like this before.  And we, as the reader of this text, will later discover that this is when their hearts begin burning a little brighter.  He has now moved from being a stranger to being a teacher.   As the day begins to draw to a close, they invite him into their home.  Jesus has now gone from being a teacher to being a guest.  When it is time to share the meal, notice what happens.  Jesus moves from being a guest of the house to the host of the meal as he engages them with those four sacred Eucharistic verbs: taking, blessing, breaking, and giving.  And when their eyes are opened, and they see him, he vanishes from their sight.  He has now moved even closer.  He now is dwelling within their hearts.  Again, this progression; Jesus moves from being stranger to co-journeyer, to teacher, to guest, to host, right into their hearts.  Notice he keeps drawing closer and closer.

Several years back, my office was adjacent to the AA room of the Retreat Center.  One evening after an AA meeting, a middle-aged man stomped in my office and blatantly stated,  Padre, “This isn’t going to work!”  Not sure what he was talking about or even who he was, I replied, “What is not going to work?” He said, “This higher power thing.  It’s not going to work.”  He went on to tell me that he didn’t know of any power greater than himself.  So quickly borrowing a line from the book of Job, I asked him,  “Are you the one who brought forth the sun rising on us today?  Are you the one who placed the stars in the sky?” He thought about that and exited the room as quickly as he entered.

Exactly a week later, he is back for another meeting.  A second time he stomped in my office and said, “Padre, this thing aint going to work.”   “What isn’t going to work,” I responded.  He said,  I go down to the water and speak into the wind blowing in my face, which is a power greater than myself.  But the wind doesn’t hear me.”     What an advancement he had made in just seven days.  He had come to the realization that this higher power needs to be one who can hear, know, and understand.    And he stomped out.

The next week, I got to my office early, expecting the next chapter in the story.  He didn’t show up.  Two weeks later, he walks gently into my office again.  This time his body posture has radically changed.  He asks me a simple question. “Padre, why is God not an alcoholic?”   “Why is that important?” I inquired.   If he was an alcoholic, he would know my lowest places.”   And then I started telling him about the cross and Jesus’ crucifixion was a very low place.  Yes, indeed, Jesus has been to lower places than ourselves.  Within a matter of weeks, this man went from not knowing God to befriending the one who knew him even at his lowest place.  Much like the above-mentioned gospel accounts of the discovery of Jesus, this man has been led to seek and discover Jesus is ahead of him.

How is this applicable to us today?  As a country, nation, and global community, we are at a very low place.  Our future is unpredictable.  How long will we remain in a mode of sheltering at home has not been determined.  How many more will die?  It gets all too frightening when it is people we know.  There are those who want to deal only with optimistic fanciful ideas of resurrection.  Through all of this, there are two things that keep coming back to me.  First, the readings of the Easter season continually draw us into the discovery of the risen Christ.  And this discovery is the glue building up the community of believers.  We are no different.  It may be twenty centuries later, but I testify to how seeing faith through the lenses of resurrection builds up the body of Christ.   It is the discovery of the risen Christ, which roots our faith.  And the second is the encouragement we have from the Gospels.  We don’t have to seek Jesus.  If we are walking with Jesus, he is probably already taking the lead.  Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way?    And it was in the taking, blessing, breaking, and giving that they recognized him.

Fr. David Colhour, C.P., is the local superior of St. Vincent Strambi Community in Chicago, Illinois.

Scripture:

Acts 2:36-41
John 20:11-18

Reflection:

“Woman, why are you weeping?”  She said to them, “They have taken my Lord,
and I don’t know where they laid him.”  When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus there, but did not know it was Jesus.  Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?  Whom are you looking for?”  She thought it was the gardener and said to him, “Sir, if you carried him away, tell me where you laid him, and I will take him.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!”

I have always enjoyed Easter Week and, for as long as I can remember, I have always loved this wonderful Gospel passage from the 20^th chapter of John’s Gospel.  Quite simply, these few verses evoke a sense of powerful loss followed by a compelling awareness of discovery and new life.  I hear in Mary Magdalene’s voice a plaintive cry from one who is still in such shock at the loss of her Lord that she is on the verge of panic and despair.  Yet, with only a word spoken from the mouth of Jesus, “Mary”, her eyes are opened and a whole new awareness begins in her life.  A simple calling out of her name by one who loved her so very much and her life is changed forever!  For me, this is almost like a second resurrection except that this time it is profoundly personal and intimate, almost as if Mary Magdalene was singled out to be another special bearer of the unbelievable news of the resurrection.

We are all invited to listen for that calling of our name by the Risen Lord and we must listen carefully or we may miss it.  But one thing I know, if we do hear the Lord call us by name, like Mary Magdalene, we will never be the same again!

Continued blessings for you all during this wonderful Easter Season and may the joy of the Resurrection fill your hearts with great peace.

Fr. Pat Brennan, C.P. is the director of Saint Paul of the Cross Passionist Retreat and Conference Center, Detroit, Michigan.

Scripture:

Acts 2:14, 22-23
Matthew 28:8-15

Reflection:

Here we are at the beginning of the Octave of Easter. I don’t know about your Easter festivities but ours was vastly different than we had expected. I still bought Easter Lilies, but sadly no traditional See’s Chocolate Bunnies—a family tradition if you live in California. Things feel very surreal when families are apart, and you send air kisses at your young grandchildren through the windows of their home.

Nothing feels the same and I wonder if that was the case for the followers of Jesus on the first Easter Sunday morning? Afraid of the authorities, they too, were safer-at-home. Yet, from our lens, we know that THIS day dawned like no other in the history of the world. Death had been conquered and Resurrection had taken place. Imagine the joy of Mary Magdalene and the other Mary as they tried to rush back to tell the disciples, holding their joy. They were the first to hear and see Jesus post-resurrection. Have you ever held a joyful secret bursting to share your news, knowing that what you have to share would change everything?

Today is no different. If we look at this text through the Christianity lens, unfortunately, we are unable at this time to live into this joy. To gather with our faith community and family sharing the joy of resurrection. We are an Easter people and Alleluia is our song. Exiled from our places of worship, I am reminded of the words of Psalm 137 as the Israelites struggled to “how can we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land.” (137:4)

Today’s first reading offers us much consolation and I wonder, how did Peter get to this point? He who denied Jesus three times is now proclaiming his Resurrection and offers stern words for “children of Israel;” In spite of the “priests and the elders” trying to shut them down as we read in the Gospel. His use of Psalm 16 is a beautiful gift to us today in our Responsorial Psalm, “…..with him at my right hand I shall not be disturbed.” (16:8) This part of the Book of Acts is following Pentecost, and Peter has already received the Holy Spirit. Peter is proof that the Spirit is alive in him and he will not be silenced by anyone. His transformation and courage offer us hope today. We remember the gifts of the Spirit that have been shared with each of us, the gift of Wisdom, Understanding, Knowledge, Counsel, Fortitude/Courage, Piety and, Fear of the Lord.

As Christians, we are called to find the seeds of resurrection. Even within this seeming night of COVID-19. Can you notice those seeds? I love this quote by author Robert Wicks, “If we remain sensitive to the presence of God in faith and in prayer, and in the darkness of confusion and suffering, the darkness will teach us, it will become (new) light.” (Crossing the Desert. p.42.)

May our world be healed; may we learn from this time of exile, may we remember the words of Jesus as he greets his followers, “Peace be with you” and may God hold us all in the palm of his hand. 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.

Easter Sunday

Scripture:

Acts 10:34a, 37-43
Colossians 3:1-4 or 1 Corinthians5:6b-8
John 20:1-9 or Matthew 28:1-10

Reflection:

May there echo in your hearts, in your families and communities the announcement of the Resurrection, along with the warm light of the presence of the Living Jesus; a presence which brightens, comforts, forgives, gladdens. Jesus conquered evil at the root: he is the Door of Salvation, open wide so that each person may find mercy.                                                                             -Prayer of Pope Francis

Greetings, and may all of you enjoy, together, a blessed, peaceful, and happy Easter, wherever this finds you!

This Coronavirus Pandemic has changed everything. We all feel it in various circumstances. It is, indeed, a providential Lent, much of which has been very difficult.

And change usually means some degree of discomfort and irritability.  Signs of maturity are always manifested in behaviors that address the adaption to change according to the situations around us. Many of you have been very close together for quite a while. Christ is in your midst, especially in the form of the grace of wisdom, received and shared!

In your personal experience, what have you learned about yourself and others in these novel, and providential times? Has the yeast of Grace and Wisdom prepared the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth? (I Cor 5:8)

Since the beginning of March, I have done weekly emails to people who are quarantined and have been deprived of Holy Mass and the Eucharist. I have been laying out various scenarios as to how we can be a “home church.” I have asked various questions to assist in building “church” at home. After all, this is the way the Christian community grew, out of people’s homes.

For instance, “have you noticed a change in habit or behavior since you have been quarantined?  For better or for worse? Can you tell one another what it has been like? Are all of you still talking to one another? Has the Spirit among you moved you to praying together?

Perhaps during these past three days, that we call the “Triduum,” we have been able to read, pray and talk about these most sacred days of the Church year, that is, the story of our salvation- the open, inviting pathway to Eternal Life and reunion with our Heavenly Father!

As best we can, we are praying, reflecting and maybe talking about the act that changed the very nature of human reality, as we entered into the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus. This novel Lent, perhaps, has enabled us to ask questions that really matter to us and others with whom we live.

I take solace in the scriptural comments regarding Peter and the unidentified disciple who arrived and entered into the empty tomb. It is noted that the unnamed companion of Peter “saw and believed” that Christ had Risen from the dead. However, “they did not understand the Scripture that he had to rise from the dead.”

That understanding grows only through the encounter with Jesus through our own personal and inter-personal stories about building His Body, the Church. The “hidden life with Christ in God” (Col. 3:3) is only accessible by faith. And within the particular confines in which we find ourselves, we can call upon His Risen Presence. In the coming days follow his appearances, and by all means, watch for His appearances in your own situations.

Father Alex Steinmiller, CP, resides at St. Paul of the Cross Community, Detroit, Michigan.

Holy Saturday
Scripture:

Genesis 1:1-2:2 or 1:1, 26-31a
Genesis 22:1-18 or 22:1-2, 9a, 10-13, 15-18
Exodus 14:15-15:1
Isaiah 54:5-14, Isaiah 55:1-11
Baruch 3:9-15, 32-4:4, Ezekiel 36:16-17a, 18-28
Romans 6:3-11
Matthew 28:1-10

Reflection:

On this day throughout the world, the tabernacles in Catholic churches sit empty.  Mass is not celebrated on this day.  Like an empty tabernacle, Saturday is a day of emptiness.  This is how we celebrate Holy Saturday.  This is the day about which we pray: “He was crucified, died, and was buried.  He descended into hell…”  (A better translation: He descended to the place of the dead.)

This is the day we keep silent vigil between Good Friday and the Resurrection.  On this day, as in so many days and weeks throughout the world-wide pandemic, we have been called to wait in silence and solitude in a new and different way.  In these times of social distancing from one another, and on this day, we are called to experience a spiritual distance from Christ, even as we pray “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord.”

Dr. Michael Downey reflects eloquently on Holy Saturday in his book, The Depth of God’s Reach: A Spirituality of Christ’s Descent: “Christian living is always between memory and hope, between promise and fulfillment.  Life in Christ is always toward Easter.”

Holy Saturday is the day of hope, when we are reminded that God’s hand can reach to deepest recesses of our lives, of our experience.  Hope calls us to resistance; to resist despair, darkness, and death.  Where there is resistance, there is hope – as we await Easter.

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

Scripture:

Isaiah 52:13-53:12
Hebrews 4:14-16; 5:7-9
John 18:1-19:42

Reflection:

The world and all those who live in it are enduring a tremendous cross right now. The COVID-19 virus spread globally, infected over a million and killed tens of thousands so far with no end yet in sight. It can certainly seem like everything we depended on has died. Where do we find hope?

I find hope by recognizing that, as Paul says, we do not have a God who is unable to sympathize or understand our weaknesses and our suffering, but one who has also endured it. Our God, in Jesus, knows pain, betrayal, abandonment, torture, injustice, despair, and death.

I find hope knowing that when I am nailed to the cross, I am not nailed there alone. I have someone with me, as close as my own breath, suffering with me, crying with me, and never leaving me.

I find hope knowing that if I walk hand-in-hand with Jesus, then no matter the pain, no matter how deep the tomb, no matter how black the night, somehow, some way, God will bring resurrection on the other side. I can’t see it right now. It’s like looking at the black sky at midnight and trusting that dawn will come, the sun will rise, the sky will be blue, and a new day will arrive. There is absolutely no evidence of that at midnight. It is my experience of its reliability that allows me peace and trust.

My experience of God is of the paschal mystery – life, death, and resurrection. We were never promised an easy life. We were never promised no pain, no sorrow, no uncertainty, no suffering, and no death. In fact, we were promised quite the opposite. God does not just take the cup away. Yet we were also promised faithfulness, and resurrection in this life and the next. We were promised the same reliability as the sunrise – a powerful, strengthening, life-giving presence that will never leave us in the dark but will lead us through the dark to new light.

So as our global family faces our own version of Good Friday with this virus and all the destruction, decimation, and death it brings, I trust that somehow, some way, our faithful God of life will find ways to bring resurrection out of it, both for individual people and for our world as a whole. It’s hard to see it when nailed up in excruciating pain, but the promise remains. And hope lives.

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:

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

Reflection:

Coming Empty to the Table of Our Lord

The gospel of John for the Mass of the Lord’s Supper has no supper. Nor will most of us dine at the banquet table of the Eucharist this evening. John tells us of another aspect of the Eucharist: our call to serve. “What I just did was to give you an example: as I have done, so you must do.”

Since Monday the liturgy as been preparing us for tonight. On each of those days, we have joined Jesus at a meal.

What a very strange meal took place on Monday of Holy Week. Strange in the sense that there is no food. We can’t begin to imagine what Martha prepared, but knowing Martha as we do, we can presume there was a lot of it. And Mary, who thanks her soul friend without words, anoints Jesus’ feet with rich oil and dries them with her hair. Who better to do something that will look to the day of Jesus’ burial than Mary, who had just mourned the death of her brother. Mary, the contemplative who is comfortable with mystery and finds meaning there. And Lazarus. Who sat next to Lazarus? Maybe Jesus. What a strange meal. This is a vision of the banquet table of heaven – the arguing women reconciled, the dead Lazarus alive, there is service, there is love and gratitude, there is Jesus. But if I was a neighbor who stopped by for a quick bite, I’m not sure I would have stayed. Something else is going on in that house.

This was Jesus’ refuge after his trips from Galilee. Bethany was the rest stop where  Galileans recuperated from their long walk, rested and then entered Jerusalem to celebrate their feasts. But the shadow over us today is that Jesus has just lost his place of comfort. His world will not be here much longer. He doesn’t have a place.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, first in John’s gospel and then Matthew, Jesus is emptied of things he loved. First, night envelopes Judas, who leaves to betray him. Then in Matthew’s story where Judas is identified as the betrayer, all the disciples ‘one after another’ deny that they would betray him. Judas betrays, the others flee, and Jesus is alone.

Tonight at the Last Supper Jesus has lost his place of comfort in our world, he will not have friends but is alone, darkness descends around him. In Jesus’ world, where he saw beauty and often speaks of nature, it will never be beautiful again.

Many people now feel very empty. We are deprived of the Eucharist, the beauty of the world and one another. We live with uncertainty and fear in this time of virus. During Lent, we fasted to become empty. To become empty is God’s gift, fasting our prayer. It seems God has called us to great emptiness now. We hear the greatest penances are not the ones we choose to but the ones that come unwelcome, unwanted. Today you may feel not at home, even afraid, in the world you live in, lonely and in darkness, empty of friends, peace, hope. If you are empty Jesus knows those feelings; they are his feelings too. He shares them with us. It seems something is placed upon us, not at all of our choosing. Into this emptiness, this hunger, may Jesus come to you today.

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

Scripture:

Isaiah 50:4-9a
Matthew 26:14-25

Reflection

This is a story of a twisted heart. On his own initiative, and without the slightest hint of reluctance or reservation, Judas Iscariot sneaks off in search of a deal. He goes to the chief priests because he wants to see how much his planned betrayal of Jesus might be worth to those eager to get rid of him. Because this traitorous deed typically overshadows every other dimension of his life, it is easy to forget, as this gospel reminds us, that Judas was “One of the Twelve.” He was not a marginal character in Jesus’ life; rather, Judas, along with the eleven other apostles, was among his most intimate companions. Judas had a history with Jesus. For the three years of Jesus’ public ministry, Judas’s life was taken up with Jesus. He journeyed with Jesus, shared meals with Jesus, learned from Jesus, worked with Jesus and, as friends always do, must have had many conversations with Jesus. So how could this possibly happen? How could someone so deeply connected to Jesus be willing to exchange the most precious gift of his life for thirty pieces of silver? Was Judas so blinded by greed that money mattered more to him than a man who clearly loved him?

It is easy to feel superior to Judas, easy to comfort ourselves by thinking that we would never do anything so wicked and perverse. But is that really true? There’s a bit of Judas in most of us inasmuch as it is easy to let something other than Christ rule our hearts. Whatever abides in the center of our hearts is what we love most, what we prize and cherish more than anything else. If it is something other than God, it’s a dark and dangerous love because, as the story of Judas vividly illustrates, sometimes we are willing to do anything to protect and nurture that love.

Here’s the point: Judas is willing to give the life of Jesus away for money and Jesus is willing to give his life away for Judas—and for every other sinner to come who is willing to betray Jesus for whatever those thirty pieces of silver are for them. Perhaps that is why in these days of Holy Week that guilt and shame are never far apart from boundless gratitude.

Paul J. Wadell is Professor of Theology & Religious Studies at St. Norbert College in De Pere, Wisconsin, and a member of the extended Passionist family.