But not for us

Good Friday always leaves me to wonder what it was like to have been one of the Apostles. The amazing high of Palm Sunday has crashed and burned in the last 24 hours. Jesus was arrested, tried, scourged, sentenced to death, forced to carry his cross to Golgotha where he is crucified and dies. Could this be happening to the one we thought was the Messiah? If death has taken Jesus what hope is there for us? Can you imagine what it would have been like to be one of the disciples realizing Love has been crucified? Love is taken away? Perhaps the English poet Robert Browning captures the moment: “Take away love and our earth is a tomb.”   That day long ago comes to an end and the apostles are left to wonder if this earth will slowly, inevitably become our tomb?

What about us? We gather to remember that day of long ago. We proclaim the Passion of the Lord and are asked to in some way relive the emotions and turmoil of the day. And, on this day of all days we are exposed to our greatest fear: death. It lies like a giant maw of a monster waiting to pull us into the darkness. We are reminded death will touch us all.

But it is not some nameless monster that lies in wait in the tomb. We are reminded that the one we have followed throughout the year, hearing the stories of his power and his mercy, He lies behind the stone. The Word of God made flesh. The Lamb of God. The very Love of God given to us in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. 

We are people who don’t have to live the next 40 hours or so tested, tormented, and taunted. We know how the story ends. We know the love we have for family and friends does not pass away at death’s door. A tomb can not vanquish love. Love eternally lives. We know that Love is indeed stronger than death. 

Allow me to borrow the words of another English poet, John Dunne. The poet speaks the story’s real ending; its truest ending

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. ….

Thou’art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy’or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

We know what the disciples only later came to learn. That the glory of God, the fullness of love is fully revealed in the Cross. That the tomb cannot restrain and hold back Love

As a people of faith, we are here at the foot of the Cross. We know the story does not end here.

We are the keeper of the story – the story that the cross cannot destroy. The story that the tomb can not bind Love. We are the ones to tell the story of Hope – of the promise of love’s power over death We are called to speak these words into the tombs of our day when other stones close off people from the light and life of the world. We are called to be the disciples who go out from this day, through the glory of the 3rd day when Jesus will be raised from the tomb, to be people who roll the stone away from their entombment and shine the love of Christ into their world.

But for now we wait in the darkness of a day when Love seems to have died. But Death is not the final word.

Not for Jesus. Not for us.

Gallicantu

There have been many a Good Friday in the course of my life. I have heard the Passion narrative. I led the Passion narrative during Good Friday liturgies. Over the many years of Bible study I have covered the Passion narrative more than a few times. And now thru the gift of my friends Jerry and Maureen, I experienced Good Friday in a way not to ever be forgotten. Continue reading →

In the Shadows

The gospel reading for the Wednesday of Holy week is always about Judas and his betrayal of Jesus. The day has the unofficial title of “Spy Wednesday.”  The story is well known. Judas accepts 30 pieces of silver from the religious leadership of Jerusalem to inform them of Jesus’ location so that the authorities could arrest Jesus. But why did Judas betray Jesus?

Perhaps the most straightforward reason is greed.  In today’s gospel it seems as though it is Judas who approaches the authorities: “What are you willing to give me if I hand him over to you?” In the Gospel of John 12:6, Judas is described as a thief who used to take from the common purse.  Greed as an explanation is supported by Scripture and as a lesson shows how small compromises can lead to grave sin. But then again, 30 pieces of silver is not a terribly large amount. Greed is not too compelling as an explanation. After all, why would someone who had traveled with the penniless rabbi for three years suddenly be consumed with greed? Maybe he saw the end coming and simply wanted to make the best of an increasingly hopeless situation.

Another widely held theory is that Judas expected a political Messiah who would overthrow Roman rule. When it became clear that Jesus was not going to pursue political change, Judas decided He wasn’t worth following. This gives rise to two different explanations. The first is a corollary to “greed”: cut my losses and might as well get some reward before I abandon Jesus. The second is an attempt to force Jesus’ hand.

One Scripture scholar, the late William Barclay, professor of divinity at Glasgow University suggested that the most compelling explanation is that in handing Jesus over to the Romans, Judas was trying to force Jesus to act in a decisive way. Barclay suggests that Judas expected the arrest would prompt Jesus to reveal himself as the long-awaited Messiah by overthrowing the Roman occupiers. 

St. Luke simply writes: “Then Satan entered into Judas, the one surnamed Iscariot, who was counted among the Twelve, and he went to the chief priests and temple guards to discuss a plan for handing him over to them.” The idea is similar in John 13:27. This does not remove Judas’ responsibility but indicates that his betrayal is part of a larger spiritual conflict. Catholic teaching is clear that Judas remains morally responsible for his choice. While there is something cosmically compelling about this explanation, it still leaves unanswered the question of why Judas allowed Satan to enter into his decision making. In any case, this reminds us that sin can open the door to deeper darkness

Many theologians see Judas’ betrayal less as a single motive and more as a gradual interior breakdown that perhaps began with small sins associated with dishonestly handling the money. One thing leads to another, there is a growing distance from Jesus leading to an increased loss of trust and then betrayal. If this has merit, it serves as a warning to a believer who remains externally close but internally drifts away.

The farther one is from the Light of Christ, one increasingly lives in the shadows. In the shadows you think you see it all, but it is only in the light that the truth can be known. Outside the light one forms their own plans and agendas. None of us think of ourselves as Judas, willing to betray Jesus. I doubt he did either. But the longer one is outside the Light of Christ…who knows?

The Apostle Peter has his shares of blunders and will deny knowing Jesus. But he is fundamentally in the Light where all good things are possible. He always returns to Jesus’ plan.

It is good to take time to discern where one stands in life and by whose plan one operates.


Image credit: Pact of Judas | Duccio di Buoninsegna, ca. 1310 |Museo dell’Opera metropolitana del Duomo, Florence | Public Domain

Outside the Light

The gospel readings in Holy week always speak about Judas and his betrayal of Jesus. The Gospel of Mark, for example, gives no motivation for Judas’s sudden betrayal. Matthew, writing a decade or so later than Mark, attempts to clarify things in his account by introducing the motive of greed: “What are you willing to give me if I hand him over to you?” asks Judas to the Jewish high priests. Luke simply writes: “Then Satan entered into Judas, the one surnamed Iscariot, who was counted among the Twelve, and he went to the chief priests and temple guards to discuss a plan for handing him over to them.” The Gospel of John parallels the avarice theme depicting Judas as a greedy keeper of the common purse. “He said this not because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief and held the money bag and used to steal the contributions.” Continue reading →

Off the rails

As we move closer to the events of Holy Thursday and Good Friday, a cloud of darkness this way comes. For the past week of so we have been hearing about members of civic and religious leadership plotting to kill Jesus. The dark clouds have been on the horizon for some time. In today’s gospel, a scene from the Last Supper, the betrayal is becoming more public.

Judas had spent years with Jesus, witness to the miracles and the goodness they brought and represented. He had heard Jesus’ call to holiness in his talks and parables. He had shared table fellowship with Jesus. And now he is in the process of betraying Jesus to the authorities. Why? I will leave that speculation to others.

Opposites attract, so they say. And “they” are insightful. We see it all the time in life in couples we know and in so many other ways. And certainly as the events of Holy Week unfold, when Goodness (with a capital “G”) will offer his life for our salvation, Evil (with that capital “E”) also draws near.

For many decades I was deeply involved in RCIA (now OCIA). It was my experience that as the time of their baptism drew near, the cleansing waters of salvation awaiting, life would begin to go off the rails for the Elect, those being initiated into the Church at the Easter Vigil. So many people would describe turns of event which brought doubt, thoughts of “maybe next year” or more subtle lures – business opportunities, requirements, or the call of a relative or friend in need. It has happened too often for me not to think that evil is not attracted to the holiest night of the year.

As the events of the Last Supper unfold, at the institution of the Eucharist, should we be surprised that evil rears up and appears among the disciples?

As our celebration of Holy Week unfolds, plan to celebrate fully and don’t be surprised if things begin to go off the rails a bit. Goodness, supreme Goodness, draws near.


Image credit: “The Last Supper,” by Ugolino da Siena, circa 1325-30, Italian. (Metropolitan Museum of Art) | Public Domain

The Chrism Mass

The word that reflects the deepest identity of Jesus is “Christ.” It is not a name, but a title. The Greek word Christos translates the Hebrew word moshiach or messiah. All those words mean “the Anointed One.” When we call upon Jesus Christ, we invoke the fact that Our Lord is anointed.

Throughout the Bible, anointing means the application of oil to someone’s body. Sometimes, it refers to simple grooming (Luke 7:46). But most of the time it means a special consecration.

People who were anointed were set apart for a sacred task. They were fundamentally changed and divinely equipped for their mission. Through the action of anointing, God gave them a share of the holiness that is divine by nature.

Jesus’ anointing was more radical. He was anointed not with oil, but with the Holy Spirit (Luke 3:22, 4:18-21).

And that is the anointing he has shared with all Christians through the sacraments.

This week bishops in all diocese will celebrate the Chrism Mass. This liturgy takes place every year during Holy Week, and it is an important moment in the life of the local Church. During the Chrism Mass, Catholic priests renew the promises they made at the time of their ordination. They promise to respect and obey their bishop, and to live the chaste life that is proper to the clergy.

But the Chrism Mass gets its name from another action that occurs only on this day. During a special rite, the bishop will bless three different oils to be used in sacraments. He’ll bless holy chrism, the oil of catechumens, and the oil of the sick. The first is used in the sacraments of confirmation and holy orders. The second is used in baptism. The third is used for anointing people who are ill or infirm.

After the Chrism Mass, these oils will be distributed to every parish in the archdiocese. As the bishop sends out the oils, he symbolically renews his connection with every parish under his care. Through those oils he will take part in thousands of sacramental moments throughout the year. He will be there with the priest who visits a parishioner’s hospital bed. He will be there with the deacon who baptizes a baby. He will be there to welcome adult converts who are confirmed on Easter Vigil. In all these sacraments, the clergy apply the oils — they anoint. And so they make Christians, and they strengthen Christian identity, in a way that is true to the root meaning of the word anointing. They make every Christian into another Anointed One, another christ.

The Chrism Mass is a beautiful moment when the unity of the Church — clergy and laity — is most visible.  We have many anointings, but “there is one body and one Spirit … one Lord, one faith, one baptism” (Ephesians 4:4-5).

“You have been anointed by the Holy One, and … the anointing which you received from him abides in you” (1 John 2:20, 27).


Adapted from Archdiocese of Los Angeles

Extravagence

Today’s gospel for the Monday of Holy Week is the well-known story of Mary of Bethany, anointing the feet of Jesus with “a liter of costly perfumed oil made from genuine aromatic nard.”  In Jesus’ time, the washing on someone’s feet carried with it meaning. While a host would offer water to a visitor for the visitor to wash their own feet, otherwise, only a servant or slave would wash someone’s feet. The same applied to anointing of the feet, considered a soothing treatment after a long day or journey. Because of these connotations, those who voluntarily washed someone else’s feet showed they were devoted enough to act as that person’s slave. The act of anointing Jesus’ feet, when taken in its literary and cultural context, displays Mary’s utter devotion to Jesus.

Many commentators, with good reason, identify Mary of Bethany as the sister of Lazarus the man Jesus had just raised from the dead. Many scholars hold that in the cultural norms, one does not anoint the feet of a living person, but one might anoint the feet of a corpse as part of the ritual of preparing the whole body for burial. In this view, hold that Mary’s action constituted an anointing of Jesus’ body for burial, and thus she performed a prophetic action.

What all agree upon is that the ointment used was very expensive. Since there is no indication that Mary belonged to one of the wealthier classes, as the meal was served by Martha rather than a servant, the ointment was indeed a major expenditure for this family. In this case, one could see the actions as one of the expression of the deepest love.

Prophetic action, expression of love, utter devotion to Jesus – all are probably true at the same time. Such is the life of a disciple – a life that is but a reflection of the One we follow. Mary’s extravagant gesture points to what Jesus is about to do: the absolutely radical giving away of self.  It is an action that is not calculated or pretentious; it is not done so that others might see her devotion. Her action flows from the deepest place in the heart.

At the climax of his life, Jesus will give himself away totally, lavishly, holding nothing back.

Her gift. His life. Both are extravagant.

Such is to be the life of discipleship.


Image credit: The Ointment of the Magdalene (Le parfum de Madeleine) by James Tissot, c.1890, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Reminders

The gospel reading for today has a rather odd phrase: Jesus answered them, “Is it not written in your law, I said, ‘You are gods’”?  I think there is a tendency to be mystified and at the same simply think, “OK, Jesus said it…. That’s enough for me.”  And then move on. But there is a lot going on in John 10, of which this gospel selection is just a portion. The whole of John 10 offers several questions, one being whether Jesus is the “good shepherd” promised in Ezekiel 34, but the one that concerns our reading today is whether Jesus is the unique Son of God, and conversely, whether God is in a very unique way his Father.

For the last several days, the gospel at Mass has raised the question of the authority and source of Jesus’ works. What more can he offer as proof than his works done through the Father? Works that are themselves the Father’s revealing words? But Jesus’ adversaries will not believe that Jesus and the Father are one: “The Father and I are one” (v. 30). The Jews’ reaction to this great assertion is the extreme one of trying to stone him. They regard Jesus’ words as blasphemy, and they proceeded to take the judgment (Lv 24:16) into their own hands

And then comes our strange verse: “Is it not written in your law, I said, ‘You are gods’ (v.34) Jesus is directing their attention to Scripture. Psalm 82:6 is the immediate reference: “Gods though you be, offspring of the Most High all of you…”  The psalm is referring to the Judges of Israel (written about in the Book of Judges) and the expression “gods” is applied to them in the exercise of their high and God-given office. If Scripture itself refers to humans as “gods” Jesus is making the point why the Pharisee should object to the reference “Son of God?”

There are two ways to understand the reference: (1) if the Psalm speaks of men as gods, then Jesus can use the term of himself in common with others, or (2) if in any sense the Psalm may apply this term to men, then much more may it be applied to him whom the Father sanctified and sent into the world. The latter is a “how much more” argument.  Leon Morris points out that this is Jesus’ way of accepting the charge made against him. He does not deny the charge, but he denies that the Jews are right in their understanding of the situation. They thought he was making himself God. He held that he was not making himself anything. He was what he was: “the one whom the Father has consecrated and sent into the world.”

The gospel reminds us who Jesus is: the Son of the Living God. But we should not lose sight that it is a reminder of who we are called to be: people who exercise our high and God-given office – not as judges – but as evangelists who announce: “the one whom the Father has consecrated and sent into the world.”


Image credit: Jesus Christ Pantocrator | detail from the deesis mosaic in Hagia Sophia, Istanbul | PD-US

On baseball and Catholicism

by John L. Allen, Jr. , Boston Globe and Cruxnow.com | may he rest in peace.


Easter is my favorite holiday, not only because it recalls the central event in the Christian account of salvation history, meaning Christ rising from the dead, but also because it coincides with baseball’s Opening Day.

A few years ago I published a list of nine reasons – with the number, obviously, chosen to represent the innings in a typical game – why Catholicism is to religion what baseball is to sports. In honor of first pitch this year, here’s the list again:

  1. Both baseball and Catholicism venerate the past. Both cherish the memories of a Communion of Saints, including popular shrines and holy cards.
  2. Both feature obscure rules that make sense only to initiates. (Think the infield fly rule for baseball fans and the Pauline privilege for Catholics.)
  3. Both have a keen sense of ritual, in which pace is critically important. (As a footnote, that’s why basketball is more akin to Pentecostalism, since both are breathless affairs premised largely on ecstatic experience. I’d go into why football is pagan, but that’s a different conversation.)
  4. Both baseball and Catholicism generate oceans of statistics, arcana, and lore. For entry-level examples, try: Who has the highest lifetime batting average, with a minimum of 1,000 at-bats? (Ty Cobb). Which popes had the longest and the shortest reigns? (Pius IX and Urban VII).
  5. In both baseball and Catholicism, you can dip in and out, but for serious devotees, the liturgy is a daily affair.
  6. Both are global games especially big in Latin America. The Detroit Tigers are thought to have one of the most potent batting orders in baseball, featuring two Venezuelans, a Cuban, and six Americans of diverse ethnic backgrounds. Take a look at the presbyterates in many American dioceses, and the mix isn’t that different.
  7. Both baseball and Catholicism have been badly tainted by scandal, with the legacies of erstwhile superstars utterly ruined. Yet both have proved surprisingly resilient – perhaps demonstrating that the game is great enough to survive even the best efforts of those in charge at any given moment to ruin it.
  8. Both have a complex farm system, and fans love to speculate about who the next hot commodity will be in “The Show.”
  9. Both reward patience. If you’re the kind of person who needs immediate results, neither baseball nor Catholicism is really your game.

I threw in a bonus item, which was my argument as to why the American League is actually more Catholic because it permits a designated hitter. The National League’s refusal, I contended, smacks of a quasi-Calvinist fundamentalism, while the American League better embodies what Cardinal John Henry Newman once called the development of doctrine.

I conceded the irony that both the Padres and the Cardinals play in the more “Protestant” National League, which was seized upon by Catholic critics who found my case for the designated hitter almost heretical. I’m not sure I’ve ever written anything else that generated quite as much blowback.

Baseball and Religion

Today is the opening day of the 2026 Baseball season. Lots of people consider baseball in the same or similar way in which they view religion. F. Scott Fitzgerald famously called baseball “the faith of fifty million people.” Susan Sarandon’s opening lines in the movie Bull Durham: “I believe in the Church of Baseball . . . For instance, there are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary, and there are 108 stitches in a baseball.” The comedian George Carlin noted: “In football, the object is for the quarterback, otherwise known as the field general, to … hit his receivers with deadly accuracy … With short bullet passes and long bombs, he marches his troops into enemy territory … In baseball, the object is to go home and to be safe.” Rather like the objective of heavenly rest.