For this week’s homily, please play the video below.
The temptation when reading Pope Francis’ encyclical Laudato Si, on creation and our common home–one of our principal guides today– is to see it as a series of political or economic or social recommendations. It’s deeper than that.
“Our goal is not to amass information or to satisfy curiosity, but rather to become painfully aware, to dare to turn what is happening to the world into our own personal suffering and thus to discover what each of us can do about it. (19)
Our present Covid crisis has created another range of personal and global suffering. We need to change the way we see things and do things. The danger is we lose the sense beauty and the good in life as we cover our faces and distance ourselves from the world around us..
I wish I could remember the name a book written years ago by a biologist pointing out the basic health and goodness of our life forms, from the smallest to the greatest. We live in a world where life thrives and not dies.
The mysticism of the Passion of Jesus offers a way to see our new painful situation as a way to life and not death. The Cross is always of tree that brings life;; a garden tomb offers the promise of new harvest. The mysticism of the Passion doesn’t end in suffering and death, but in life and resurrection.
Mystics usually see the connection of things. Are we being called to embrace a passion mysticism now?
I like Francis’ quotation of the Sufi spiritual writer Ali al-Khawas who “stresses that we not put too much distance between creatures of the world and the interior experience of God.” We have to see this present situation as part of the plan of God, a mystery of death and resurrection.
“Prejudice should not have us criticize those who seek ecstasy in music or poetry. There is a subtle mystery in each of the movements and sounds of this world. The initiate will capture what is being said when the wind blows, the trees sway, water flows, flies buzz, doors creak, birds sing, or in the sound of strings or flutes, the sighs of the sick, the groans of the afflicted…” (EVA DE VITRAY-MEYEROVITCH [ed.], Anthologie du soufisme, Paris 1978, 200).
As we put on face masks and practice social distancing, let’s not lose sight of the beauty of creation, a sign of God’s presence.
Inspired during my morning rosary -May 6, 2020
The sun is beaming. It’s a hot and arid day. I’m walking up a dusty road to a simple house of mortar and stone. Mother Mary, you see me through your kitchen window– I’m pacing back and forth – hesitating to go in and see your son, Jesus. You open your door and pull me into the doorway. You give me a big hug and a gentle kiss on my forehead. It is cool within the house and I feel refreshed. Without letting go of me, you walk me into your home and closer to Jesus. Like a good mother who knows what’s best for me, you lightly nudge me towards Him, while assuring me that I will be “just fine”. You start walking away back towards your kitchen – telling me to go on and speak with Jesus. You whisper, “In the meantime, I’ll be right here preparing something special.” I feel at ease as I begin to tell Jesus all the things in my heart. My joys and sadness. Some of the things I tell Him are difficult to say and I hesitate, but you catch my eye from where you stand in the kitchen. “Go on, keep telling Him. He loves you”, you say. Jesus hears me out and I slowly rise – ready to leave. Mother Mary reaches me before I make it out of the house, bringing me back into the warmth of her kitchen. She has made a space for me, tea and freshly baked biscuits waiting on a table. “Sweet daughter, sit. I’m so glad you came in.”
Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Easter
John 10:22-30
Jesus assures us in today’s Gospel reading that no one can take his sheep out of his hand. He knows each of his sheep by name and their unique identities.
“My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one can take them out of the Father’s hand.”
John 10:29
A cloud of mystery surrounds Jesus’ references to the Father throughout the Gospels, but his unmistakable desire is to lead us back to him, the font of Love, who is a person.
“The Father and I are one.” Love is one and interpersonal, a communion of divine persons and the final destination of human persons. As the Son receives his unique identity from the Father, so does each of us, the Father’s adopted children.
Know that the LORD is God.
He made us, and we are his.
We are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. Psalm 100:3
-GMC
We are not alone during this pandemic. Emmanuel means God is with us every step of the way. May these uncertain times be an opportunity to grow in prayer.
Lord, have mercy.
Jesus, Eternal Son of God, have mercy on us.
Jesus, born into the human family,
Jesus, rejected by the world you came to save,
Jesus, bargained for and sold for money,
Jesus, foreseeing your torments and sweating blood,
Jesus, betrayed by a false friend,
Jesus, deserted by those you loved,
Jesus, slapped in the face and spit upon in a court of justice,
Jesus, accused by liars,
Jesus, disowned by Peter,
Jesus, insulted by Herod,
Jesus, condemned to death by Pilate,
Jesus, beaten with whips,
Jesus, crowned with thorns,
Jesus, rejected for the murderer, Barabbas,
Jesus, burdened with a cross,
Jesus, stripped of your clothing,
Jesus, nailed to a cross,
Jesus, taunted in your pain,
Jesus, abandoned,
Jesus, shedding the last drop of your blood,
Jesus, dying for us,
Jesus, laid in a tomb,
Jesus, rising in glory,
Jesus, ascending into heaven,
Jesus, sending down the Holy Spirit,
Jesus, our ransom,
Jesus, our brother,
Jesus, our God, have mercy on us.
From Lent-Easter Meditations and Prayers
by Fr. Victor Hoagland, C.P.
there are not many choices
really there are only two to be exact
to suffer in union with Christ, or not
for to suffer not is not a choice
at least not while we are passing through
so, we lift up our tired eyes
we strain our necks elevating our chins
we become like David
we strum our harps
for kings are not the only ones who sing sad psalms
David is not the only musician of pain
for just this morning I saw several on their way to work
one drove a van, another a box truck, a third carried a broom
each had a song, each strummed along
each is of the house of David, each a spouse of Mary
which ones however, if any, offered up the pain
that I do not know
only our Father above knows who it is that unites his suffering to Christ’s
only the silent Christ in each one of us could make such a noble choice
—yet another man named Joseph, a son of David
(Howard Hain)
As we walk along and lean more and more on God and less and less on human consolation we discover we are never alone.
When we truly give thanks to God for the human consolation that comes our way we discover just how many angels and saints God has placed along the path.
Everyone and everything is originally from God.
He is the only true creator, at the beginning, and at the end of the day.
If we love only Him we love everyone and everything.
Evil is the denial of such undeniable truth.
Evil is the denial of God’s supreme creativity.
Evil is the absence of good.
And shadows and darkness need spaces and voids in order to exist.
Jesus came to cast providential light.
For as the sun rises toward “straight above” the length of negativity surely disappears.
And at perfect high noon darkness does not stand a chance.
For Jesus was raised up upon the crisscrossed tree of life.
Good squelching evil for all the world to see.
———
The foot of that Cross still remains.
The closer we get the brighter the day.
Spaces and voids fill with pure light.
Absence disappears.
Evil is cast into hell.
For what God creates He intends for good.
———
Will we then live good lives?
Will we allow our absences to be filled with genuine goodness?
Will we speak life?
Will we help build the kingdom?
Let us do so.
One stone at a time.
One flickering light at a time.
One Eucharistic encounter at a time.
———
Let us live “on every word that comes forth from the mouth of God.“
For when we do,
Stones become bread,
Water becomes wine,
And bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ.
———
Lord Jesus, cover us with Your Blood.
Let us hug the foot of Your Cross.
Let us adore Your feet nailed to the trunk of the tree.
Let us get so close that not even a speck of darkness can get in between.
Let us truly ask this in Your Holy and Perfect Name.
Amen.
.
—Howard Hain
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The one who sat on the throne said, “Behold, I make all things new.” Then he said, “Write these words down, for they are trustworthy and true.”
—Revelation 21:5
There’s a place
Where walls are made of flowers
And petals are made of uncut stones.
Where virtue grows untold
And innocence can simply be itself.
Where earth and water mix
But never make mud.
The rain continually falls,
The sun always shines,
The dew remains sight unseen.
Laughter, joyful laughter
Tills the soil.
Weeds are welcome,
No plant chokes another.
The seasons,
They come and go,
The temperature remains the same.
Innocence. Innocence. Innocence.
The constant refrain.
Such a place exists.
It lowers from the sky
While within a playground
Filled with screaming kids.
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth. The former heaven and the former earth had passed away, and the sea was no more.
I also saw the holy city, a new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.
I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, God’s dwelling is with the human race. He will dwell with them and they will be his people and God himself will always be with them as their God.
He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, for the old order has passed away.”
—Revelation 21:1-4
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—Howard Hain
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