In the face of overwhelmingly unexpected events or great uncertainty, fear is our natural human response.  But these two women are told twice, first by angels and then by Jesus, “Do not be afraid.”  Can we fight that fear?  Can we resist it?

Or, is there another answer?  Is the problem rooted in the way that we view things in general?

If we are attached to worldly outcomes, we naturally fear negative outcomes in this life (or even the possibility of negative outcomes).  If our most important goals are in this world, then not realizing those goals can be crushing.  Losing out on things to which we are attached is very, very difficult.

But, if our perspective is focused on our relationship with God, then our priorities (often gradually) become less about things of this world.  Our focus becomes on living this life in a way that is focused on the next.  That does not mean that we ignore our worldly responsibilities.  It does not mean that we stop striving for goals in this life.  It does mean that we learn to roll with unexpected events in this life.  It does mean that fear becomes much less a part of our existence.

Jesus’ appearance to the women helped to drive out their fear.  The overwhelming and incomprehensible remained joyful, but they became less fearful about it.  Their focus changes to the reality of the Risen Lord in front of them and to their love for him. 

By contrast, the actions of the guards and the chief priests indicate fear.  A fear that they will carry with them for a long time.  A fear of the truth.  A fear of that truth becoming known. 

Here in Clay County, it appears that we have not reached the peak of this pandemic.  Fear can become a real problem.  Jesus tells us too, “Do not be afraid.”  We do all that we can to follow best practices for prevention of this disease.  But we do not know what lies ahead for us.  However, if we can shift our focus to our love of our Lord, he can help to drive out our fear. 

He is Risen.  He is not just raised from dead like Lazarus, only to die again.  He has not been summoned as a spirit back from the dead as the medium in Endor did in calling back Elijah for King Saul (1 Samuel 28).  He has opened a new realm of existence for us.  One that he demonstrates with his glorified body that is unconstrained by time or space.  One that is even somehow different in appearance.  Mary Magdalene in the garden near the tomb, the disciples on the road to Emmaus, and the Apostles from their boat did not immediately recognize him in this new form.  Yet one that is physically real.  In several instances, he would appear to them, share table fellowship with them, and even eat with them.  This is a new realm that has entered into our world.

This is not merely an isolated event.  It opens the path to eternal life for us.  We can share in his Resurrection.  As Saint Paul writes, “But now Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.  For since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead came also through a human being.  For just as in Adam all die, so too in Christ shall all be brought to life (1 Corinthians 15:20-22).” 

This future possibility is not just a continuation of our present reality.  It is an opening to something far greater.  Saint John writes “Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is (1 John 3:2).”  We shall see him face to face.  Unfiltered.  Not obscured as in this present life.  And we shall be completely happy and fulfilled.  “There is nothing I shall lack (Psalm 23:1).” 

Finite words from finite creatures cannot adequately describe either this Resurrection event of an infinite God or an eternal existence with a God who is infinitely good and the source of all good itself.

This Resurrection is an event that does not just affect us.  It defines us.  It defines our entire future.  It makes possible that for which we were made.  To quote Saint Athanasius yet again, “God became man that we might become God,”

Do we embrace this future possibility?  Do we accept this gift?  Do we truly desire to enter into union with God now in this life?  Do we long for the completion of this union in the next?

The world has gone silent.

Our Lord’s body is in the tomb.  He has truly died.  His soul separated from his body in the death that he really experienced.

We say in the Apostle’s Creed that “he descended into hell.”  The language reflects our human limitations.  We are creatures necessarily constrained by time and space.  At any given moment in time, we are necessarily in one particular place.  So, we think of hell as a physical destination. 

It might be more accurate to think of it as a state of being.  Hell is really the state of permanent separation from God.  Then, as now, there was also still Purgatory, a state in which souls were made ready for heaven.  But there was also a state of being for those souls who would have gone to heaven except for the constraint of original sin.  We can think of them as the holy ones of old.  

God the Son would not have entered a state of being permanently separated from God.  The statement itself is illogical.  But he could have joined with the holy souls who awaited the gates of heaven to be opened.  1 Peter 4:6 says that the Gospel was preached even to the dead.  Both St. Thomas Aquinas and St. Augustine would say that Jesus preached to souls in all three states of separation from God (hell, Purgatory, and those ancient holy ones waiting for heaven to open) by the spirit of his divinity through internal inspirations.  He enlightened even those in hell of his victory without entering a state that, by definition, excludes God.

In the end, the Church still calls this part of the Mystery of Holy Saturday.

As for us, we await the celebration of the Resurrection at the Easter Vigil.  There is no Mass for Holy Saturday.  There is no Gospel of the day on which to reflect.  The Missal says, “The Church abstains from the Sacrifice of the Mass” on this day.  It is intended as a time of anticipation.

With this pandemic, much of Lent has been, and much of Easter will be, a similar time of abstinence and anticipation.  We are forced to abstain from public Masses.  The people are forced to abstain from the Eucharist.  We all anticipate the end of this soon.  While one-time sacraments are being deferred for a safer time, we thankfully still have Confession (with extra distancing and by appointment) and Anointing of the Sick (but only outside of nearly all hospitals and nursing homes and with an incomplete set of PPE that is discarded or sanitized afterwards). 

On this Holy Saturday, the world has gone silent.  Let us enter into this silent anticipation today.  Rejoicing on the day of the Lord’s Resurrection and looking forward to rejoicing when we can come together again.

Today, we hear two entire chapters of the Gospel of John with his account of the Passion of our Lord.

Near the end of his time on the cross, in what is called the fifth of the seven last words of Christ, we hear our Lord say, “I thirst.”

There are several ways in which we can understand this.

Yes, Jesus truly became one of us.  He took on our human nature.  He felt the same human needs that we all feel.  He thirsted.  Particularly as part of his great suffering that resulted in such massive fluid loss, he thirsted.

However, we recognize how Jesus always seemed to think of others, even during his Passion.  He consoled the women of Jerusalem.  He gave his mother to John to care for her.  He forgave his executioners.  He promised paradise to the good thief.  Even from the cross, he continued to teach all of us about the love of God.  What might he be teaching us with this expression?

Besides a human expression of physical thirst, we can see a connection to the story of the Samaritan woman at the well.  We can see a reference to the living water that leads to eternal life.

We can also see a reference to the corporal works of mercy from Matthew 25, particularly “I was thirst and you gave me drink.”

It is possible to see this as an unintentionally ironic statement that the one who promises living water would speak of his thirst from the cross.  Of course, it is hard to imagine Jesus, Son of God, making such an unintentionally ironic statement.  We would do much better to see an intentional double-meaning.  One of physical thirst.  But another of thirst for doing the will of God.  For bringing his mission of sacrifice for our sake to completion.

Any reflection on this expression from our Lord would be incomplete without a reflection on our own personal connection to it.

1. Jesus suffered and died for all of our sins.  Am I aware of my own sins and how Jesus took on the pain of my sins too?  Have I asked for forgiveness for these sins?  Do I do an Examination of Conscience and pray an Act of Contrition each evening?
2. Am I thinking of others during our present time of suffering?  While I likely cannot give drink directly to another outside my household at this time of forced isolation, have I reached out to others to check on them?  Am I offering my own surplus of money or goods to others in need?
3. Am I making use of any extra time to satisfy my own spiritual thirst?
4. Do I truly thirst for doing God’s will in my life?

Jesus humbled himself by taking on the role of a servant at the Last Supper.  He washed the feet of the disciples.  This is what a servant would have done for guests in Jesus’ time.  This is what the priest does again in a public Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday.  It demonstrates his role as servant.  The priest serves the people of God, who in turn sanctify the world.

That is the obvious meaning of this practice.

But, there is almost always something deeper to what Jesus does than what is obvious on the surface.

Peter says, “Master, then not only my feet, but my hands and head as well.^” 

Jesus responds, “Whoever has bathed has no need except to have his feet washed, for he is clean all over; so you are clean, but not all.^”

Catholics have already bathed in the waters of Baptism.  So, why wash the feet?  This is what the priest does in the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  He washes the feet of the penitent.  By giving absolution, he washes their sins away.  He washes the dirt that they have picked up on their feet.  He helps to keep those people that he serves reconciled to God.  He purifies his people.

Today, we are isolated in our homes.  We do not get to see the washing of the feet at Mass.  Think of it nonetheless.  Perhaps view a previous year’s Holy Thursday Mass online.  And, see the priest acting as Jesus did, in serving his people by washing them.  Symbolically purifying them before they go back out into the world.  And be grateful that Jesus has given us the priesthood to serve his people in the almost two millennia since the Last Supper.

Am I open to seeing how today’s priests continue to “act in the power and place of the person of Christ himself (Catechism 1548)?”  Especially on this day that we celebrate the institution of the ministerial priesthood?

Do I recognize the need to continually be re-purified in order to better fulfill my own vocation?

It is Wednesday of Holy Week.  Tomorrow, we begin the Triduum with the Holy Thursday Mass of the Lord’s Supper.  Everything is hurtling toward the events of Christ’s Passion. 

Today, we hear Matthew’s account of Judas’ betrayal being set in motion.  First, Judas meets with the chief priests to determine the price that they would pay for him to hand Jesus over.   Then Jesus announces Judas’ betrayal at the Last Supper. 

Why do the chief priests want Judas to do this? 

Yes, Jesus had cleansed the Temple.  But the really threatening thing to them was his prediction of the destruction of the Temple. 

Jesus represented a major change, in part, because he replaced the Temple.  Temple worship becomes obsolete with Jesus.  The early Christians recognized this.  They might have still gone to the Temple initially for prayer and preaching.  But, their celebration of the Eucharist was in their homes.  Eventually, they would not even go to the Temple for prayer.

As we heard in last Saturday’s Gospel, the Sanhedrin convened to decide what to do about Jesus after the raising of Lazarus.  Jesus death was inevitable once Caiaphas, the high priest, said, “You know nothing, nor do you consider that it is better for you that one man should die instead of the people, so that the whole nation may not perish.”  Caiaphas’ statement amounted to a death sentence and led to the cascade of happenings that followed.

As the events of this week unfold, can we sense what it might have been like to be there in Jerusalem?  The triumphal tone of Jesus’ entry on Palm Sunday.  The panic once Jesus was arrested.  The dynamics of the Temple authorities pushing for Jesus’ crucifixion.  The supporters of Barabbas mobilizing to shout for his release over that of Jesus.  The Crucifixion itself.  Things went from celebratory to terrifying very quickly for Jesus’ followers.

As we deal with emotions ranging from mere boredom to frustration to fear or even terror around this current pandemic, we likely have at least briefly experienced some of the emotions that those earliest Christians would have felt during that first Holy Week.    

The one thing that we know that they did not, about both their story and ours, is how it ends.  There is Resurrection.  There is life.  A life in which we can participate…even now.  We know that this life cannot be destroyed by anyone or anything, even death.  From this, we have hope, a hope that cannot be dimmed.

In today’s Gospel passage at the Last Supper, Jesus shows Judas to be his betrayer.  And Peter promises to lay down his life for Jesus.  Something that he could not do initially but would do many years later.

Did Jesus condemn Peter for the three-fold denial of Jesus that he would make?   No, he simply left him to himself to see his own weakness. 

Peter was convinced that he could do more than he could on his own.  He was trying to assert his own desires upon the situation rather than following the Lord’s lead.  Jesus just left him to see that he was not capable of what he had promised…not by his own power anyway. 

Sometimes God does that in our own prayer lives.  Many times, God gives us consolations which bring courage, strength, delight, and often peace.  But other times, God leaves us to our own powers without removing the sufficient grace needed.  In these times of desolation, we often lose our sense of peace, our fervor, and our sense of God’s love.

Why does God do that?  We can compare this to a parent that gradually starts to let their child work through their distress rather than immediately picking them up or even giving them a treat.  It is necessary for the child’s maturity to learn to work through those things on their own. 

In much the same way, there are times that God leaves us seemingly alone.  These times reveal our personal weakness, emphasize our dependence on God, and allow us to resist the “various agitations and temptations of the enemy” as Saint Ignatius of Loyola says.  We do so with divine help that always remains with us, although it is often not initially felt.

Peter recognized his own weakness.  He sought forgiveness for his failure.  He came to grow in his dependence on the Lord.  He matured spiritually.

We too will find times when we are seemingly on our own spiritually.  May we learn to prepare for these times by shoring up our own points of weakness.  May we learn to step back and recognize what is happening when it does happen.  May we know of God’s sufficient grace in these times.  And may we seek to immediately confront and resist this desolation through perseverance in prayer and appropriate penance.  Through this effort, we will mature spiritually.  And in time…in God’s time…God will return us to spiritual consolation.

In today’s Gospel passage, Mary anointed Jesus’ feet with a liter (or a pound, depending on your translation) of very expensive perfumed oil.  Judas, who had already been stealing from the common money bag for which he was responsible, objected to this excessive display.  Jesus rebuked him and said that she should be allowed to keep this perfume for the day of his burial. 

Then Jesus says something which might puzzle us.  “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”  This seems almost dismissive towards the needs of the poor.  But we must remember to whom Jesus addressed these words.  And, we must understand what Jesus is telling us about caring for the poor.

First, Jesus is rebuking the man whom Jesus undoubtedly knew was stealing.  Judas was in many ways already a lost soul.  His comments did not come from a genuine care for the poor.  They came from a desire to have more in the money bag from which he could steal.  So, Jesus was not going to tell Mary to sell the perfumed oil and give the money to Judas to keep.

Second, and perhaps most important for us, Jesus tells us something about what our priorities should be.  If we think about it, what Jesus says here is completely consistent with what he says about the Greatest Commandment.  We are called to love God with our entire being.  Something that Mary was demonstrating here.  Then we are called to love our neighbor as ourselves.  The second necessarily flows out of the first. 

When Christians care for the poor, we do not do so as secular social workers.  Our care for the poor flows out of our love of God.  Saint John tells us that we cannot love a God that we cannot see if we do not love the brother than we can see.  When we love God, we necessarily also love others.  Saint James tells us that our works are a demonstration of our faith. 

At the heart of our faith is the Eucharist (and the celebration of the Eucharist in the Mass).  It is the highest and most important thing for us.  It is also the source from which all else that we do flows…including our care for the poor.  We do not choose between showing our love of God and caring for the poor.  That is a false choice.  We care for the poor because we love God.

For Palm Sunday Mass, we have three options for “The Commemoration of the Lord’s Entrance Into Jerusalem.”  One option is for a full procession from some other place into the church.  There is also a solemn entrance into the church.  Or, there is a simple entrance.  Unless the simple entrance is used, we hear at Mass today of both the Lord’s entrance into Jerusalem and our Lord’s Passion.

Jesus knew of the fickle nature of public approval.  As he rode into Jerusalem to fulfill the passage from Zechariah, he knew that many would be calling for his crucifixion only days later.    But it did not matter.  He came to do the will of the Father.  Public opinion was irrelevant.

It is difficult for us to do so, but we too are called to do the will of the Father irrespective of public opinion.  Our life is a mission from God, not a popularity contest.  Of course, that does not give us an excuse to antagonize people at every turn.  We are called to love God with our entire being and to receive God’s love and reflect it in our love of neighbor.  To be Christ to others, to bring Christ to others, and to bring others to Christ.  But following God’s teaching will not always be popular. 

Are we committed to following God and not the whims of our culture?  Are we pursuing God in this life or the approval of others?  Do we want to follow the path in this life that leads to union with God in the next…regardless of the distractions from that path that we might encounter along the way? 

Jesus replaces the Temple.  His teaching and actions made him a grave threat to the Temple authorities.  The Pharisees’ belief system needed to be reoriented away from simply adherence to the law in external actions alone.  They needed to be refocused on a purity of heart not merely a ritual purity.  But the Temple authorities had their position really threatened by Jesus.  Perhaps because they feared that Jesus would disrupt the uneasy truce that existed between Roman authorities and Jewish leaders.  Perhaps purely out of self-interest.

As it turns out, the Sadducees, whose position was centered on the Temple, would ultimately fade away with the destruction of the Temple in 70AD.  And it was neither Jesus nor his followers who triggered that destruction.

But the teaching of Jesus could make people uncomfortable.  It could be disruptive.

In what ways are the teaching of Jesus uncomfortable for us?  Perhaps it causes us to face our own sins, especially ones that we are somehow afraid to admit.  Maybe we compound one grave sin like missing Mass some time ago by our own choice with a sin of pride that keeps us from seeking forgiveness for that in the Sacrament of Reconciliation?  Perhaps we are uncomfortable even making the call to get an appointment.

Please know that we need this Sacrament of Reconciliation.  Jesus knows that.  This is why he gave it to us through his Apostles (John 20:23). 

Know also that we live in a difficult time.  Priests cannot visit patients at Orange Park Hospital here (and at so many others around the country).  We are only able to offer Confession by appointment (although we will work with you to find a time that works). 

We are having to educate people about the need for an Act of Contrition made with perfect contrition if Confession is not possible.  Perfect contrition arises from a love by which God is loved above all else.  Imperfect contrition is born of the consideration of sin’s ugliness or the fear of eternal damnation and the other penalties threatening the sinner (contrition of fear).  It is still a gift from God that can help a sinner seek forgiveness through the Sacrament of Reconciliation (Catechism 1452-1453).    

Please overcome whatever discomfort is keeping you from seeking forgiveness for sins.  Make an Act of Contrition daily and strive to do so with perfect contrition.  Do not be afraid to make an appointment for the Sacrament of Reconciliation when you are conscious of grave sin.  Be willing to make frequent and careful use of this sacrament for venial sins (Rite of Penance 7b) when home isolation no longer becomes necessary to prevent the spread of this virus.