Good Friday

April 3, 2026

Jesus finishes his mission

SUGGESTION FOR GOOD FRIDAY, ESPECIALLY THE TRE ORE FROM 12-3PM

Spend some time with the Gospel of John, maybe comparing it to the same events recorded in Matthew’s Gospel from Palm/Passion Sunday on April 5.. You may want to intersperse some music between the sections (see below). Then take a look at two homilies from 2008 from community members, delivered at two different services. Finally, just spend some time with Jesus.

MUSIC MEDITATIONS FOR GOOD FRIDAY
All are on YouTube:
“Were You There When They Crucified My Lord” — (CTCatholicCorner, 4PM Media, Mahalia Jecson, Pegasis and others)
“What Wondrous Love is This”— (Fernando Ortega, Sabine Murza)
“Pie Jesu by Faure” by Kathleen Battle
“Going Home” by Dvorak, sung by Bryn Terfel

GOSPEL — JOHN 18:1-19:42

Jesus went out with his disciples across the Kidron valley to where there was a garden, into which he and his disciples entered. Judas his betrayer also knew the place, because Jesus had often met there with his disciples. So Judas got a band of soldiers and guards from the chief priests and the Pharisees and went there with lanterns, torches, and weapons. Jesus, knowing everything that was going to happen to him, went out and said to them, “Whom are you looking for?” They answered him, “Jesus the Nazorean.” He said to them, “I AM.” Judas his betrayer was also with them. When he said to them, “I AM,“ they turned away and fell to the ground. So he again asked them, “Whom are you looking for?” They said, “Jesus the Nazorean.” Jesus answered, “I told you that I AM. So if you are looking for me, let these men go.” This was to fulfill what he had said, “I have not lost any of those you gave me.” Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it, struck the high priest’s slave, and cut off his right ear. The slave’s name was Malchus. Jesus said to Peter, “Put your sword into its scabbard. Shall I not drink the cup that the Father gave me?” So the band of soldiers, the tribune, and the Jewish guards seized Jesus, bound him, and brought him to Annas first. He was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, who was high priest that year. It was Caiaphas who had counseled the Jews that it was better that one man should die rather than the people. Simon Peter and another disciple followed Jesus. Now the other disciple was known to the high priest, and he entered the courtyard of the high priest with Jesus. But Peter stood at the gate outside. So the other disciple, the acquaintance of the high priest, went out and spoke to the gatekeeper and brought Peter in. Then the maid who was the gatekeeper said to Peter, “You are not one of this man’s disciples, are you?” He said, “I am not.” Now the slaves and the guards were standing around a charcoal fire that they had made, because it was cold, and were warming themselves. Peter was also standing there keeping warm. The high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and about his doctrine. Jesus answered him, “I have spoken publicly to the world. I have always taught in a synagogue or in the temple area where all the Jews gather, and in secret I have said nothing. Why ask me? Ask those who heard me what I said to them. They know what I said.” When he had said this, one of the temple guards standing there struck Jesus and said, “Is this the way you answer the high priest?” Jesus answered him, “If I have spoken wrongly, testify to the wrong; but if I have spoken rightly, why do you strike me?” Then Annas sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest. Now Simon Peter was standing there keeping warm. And they said to him, “You are not one of his disciples, are you?” He denied it and said, “I am not.” One of the slaves of the high priest, a relative of the one whose ear Peter had cut off, said, “Didn’t I see you in the garden with him?” Again Peter denied it. And immediately the cock crowed. Then they brought Jesus from Caiaphas to the praetorium. It was morning. And they themselves did not enter the praetorium in order not to be defiled so that they could eat the Passover. So Pilate came out to them and said, “What charge do you bring against this man?” They answered and said to him, “If he were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over to you.” At this, Pilate said to them, “Take him yourselves, and judge him according to your law.” The Jews answered him, “We do not have the right to execute anyone,“ in order that the word of Jesus might be fulfilled that he said indicating the kind of death he would die. So Pilate went back into the praetorium and summoned Jesus and said to him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you say this on your own or have others told you about me?” Pilate answered, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests handed you over to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom does not belong to this world. If my kingdom did belong to this world, my attendants would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not here.” So Pilate said to him, “Then you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say I am a king. For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” Pilate said to him, “What is truth?” When he had said this, he again went out to the Jews and said to them, “I find no guilt in him. But you have a custom that I release one prisoner to you at Passover. Do you want me to release to you the King of the Jews?” They cried out again, “Not this one but Barabbas!” Now Barabbas was a revolutionary. Then Pilate took Jesus and had him scourged. And the soldiers wove a crown out of thorns and placed it on his head, and clothed him in a purple cloak, and they came to him and said, “Hail, King of the Jews!” And they struck him repeatedly. Once more Pilate went out and said to them, “Look, I am bringing him out to you, so that you may know that I find no guilt in him.” So Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple cloak. And he said to them, “Behold, the man!” When the chief priests and the guards saw him they cried out, “Crucify him, crucify him!” Pilate said to them, “Take him yourselves and crucify him. I find no guilt in him.” The Jews answered, “We have a law, and according to that law he ought to die, because he made himself the Son of God.” Now when Pilate heard this statement, he became even more afraid, and went back into the praetorium and said to Jesus, “Where are you from?” Jesus did not answer him. So Pilate said to him, “Do you not speak to me? Do you not know that I have power to release you and I have power to crucify you?” Jesus answered him, “You would have no power over me if it had not been given to you from above. For this reason the one who handed me over to you has the greater sin.” Consequently, Pilate tried to release him; but the Jews cried out, “If you release him, you are not a Friend of Caesar. Everyone who makes himself a king opposes Caesar.” When Pilate heard these words he brought Jesus out and seated him on the judge’s bench
in the place called Stone Pavement, in Hebrew, Gabbatha. It was preparation day for Passover, and it was about noon. And he said to the Jews, “Behold, your king!” They cried out, “Take him away, take him away! Crucify him!”Pilate said to them,
“Shall I crucify your king?” The chief priests answered, “We have no king but Caesar.” Then he handed him over to them to be crucified. So they took Jesus, and, carrying the cross himself, he went out to what is called the Place of the Skull, in Hebrew, Golgotha. There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus in the middle. Pilate also had an inscription written and put on the cross. It read, “Jesus the Nazorean, the King of the Jews.” Now many of the Jews read this inscription, because the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city; and it was written in Hebrew, Latin, and Greek. So the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, “Do not write ‘The King of the Jews,’ but that he said, ‘I am the King of the Jews’.” Pilate answered, “What I have written, I have written.” When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four shares, a share for each soldier. They also took his tunic, but the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top down. So they said to one another, “Let’s not tear it, but cast lots for it to see whose it will be,“ in order that the passage of Scripture might be fulfilled that says: They divided my garments among them, and for my vesture they cast lots. This is what the soldiers did. Standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary of Magdala. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple there whom he loved he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his home. After this, aware that everything was now finished, in order that the Scripture might be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I thirst.” There was a vessel filled with common wine. So they put a sponge soaked in wine on a sprig of hyssop and put it up to his mouth. When Jesus had taken the wine, he said, “It is finished.” And bowing his head, he handed over the spirit. Now since it was preparation day, in order that the bodies might not remain on the cross on the sabbath, for the sabbath day of that week was a solemn one, the Jews asked Pilate that their legs be broken and that they be taken down. So the soldiers came and broke the legs of the first and then of the other one who was crucified with Jesus. But when they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs, but one soldier thrust his lance into his side, and immediately blood and water flowed out. An eyewitness has testified, and his testimony is true; he knows that he is speaking the truth, so that you also may come to believe. For this happened so that the Scripture passage might be fulfilled: Not a bone of it will be broken. And again another passage says: They will look upon him whom they have pierced. After this, Joseph of Arimathea, secretly a disciple of Jesus for fear of the Jews, asked Pilate if he could remove the body of Jesus. And Pilate permitted it. So he came and took his body. Nicodemus, the one who had first come to him at night, also came bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes weighing about one hundred pounds. They took the body of Jesus and bound it with burial cloths along with the spices, according to the Jewish burial custom. Now in the place where he had been crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb, in which no one had yet been buried. So they laid Jesus there because of the Jewish preparation day; for the tomb was close by.

COMPANIONS FOR THE JOURNEY

Homily for Good Friday 2008
The last words of Jesus, according to the writer of the last canonical Gospel, were the cryptic: “It is finished.” What is finished? I think it depends on your perspective. Let us, in our mind’s eye, gather around the cross and observe the reactions of those intimately connected to the fateful events of that day. For the High priests, this is the end, or so they think, to all those incendiary speeches, dangerous gatherings of people who are beginning to question the authority of the temple, and who are beginning to see the high priests as collaborators in a system which kept the peace with Rome, but did so on the backs of the poor and marginalized. It is an end to a public relations nightmare in which Rome once again looks at this corner of the world as a hotbed of discontent and sedition. The traitor is dead. It is finished; FINALLY! Soldiers on a hill, obeying orders from above. Nasty job to pull. But somebody has to. Wretched day. Hot. Humid. Cloudy. Storm brewing. Anybody for a quick game? Thirsty! Listen to that one. He’s thirsty! If you are the king of the Jews, get out of this one — if you can. A bad job; but it’s over now. Another day, another shekel. (1.) It is finished. Two thieves, each with a different reaction on their last day on earth: One is desperate for life, disappointed when Jesus can’t pull off the final miracle. “I knew you were a fake!” The other, sensing something larger than life is happening here: “This man has done nothing wrong.” But for each of them, there is no coming down from that cross alive. It is finished. The crowd dwindles. The shouting subsides. Wagging their heads they snort and chuckle. Destroy the temple! Who did he think he was? Rebuild it in three days! He fancied himself at playing Solomon. Good riddance, I say. That was a good one. But it’s finished now. Somewhere in the shadows lurks a free man. Released from prison his first day out of jail. Barabbas delivered from bondage! His term of sentence? It is finished. Off in the distance on the palace balcony stand Pilate and his wife. A nightmare come true, but after all — I didn’t really know him. It wasn’t as though he were somebody important. What’s done is done. “What I have written I have written, “And that’s that. It is finished (2.) The disciples—men and women, many of whom have been expecting a radical change in the religious philosophies and the social structures at the hand of Jesus surely realize that it is finished, and not in a good way, on that fateful afternoon when Jesus dies. “I left my family, my good life as a fisherman to follow him. I thought we had every chance of success. I was going to be his right hand person in his new kingdom. He is the only one who understood everything I ever did. What now? I guess it’s back to the job of trying to make a living fishing. That’s it. We failed. It is finished.” (3) What is finished? When I was a child, I heard over and over again in one version or another: Jesus’ job, to die for our sins, is finished. Jesus had to die in order for humanity to be restored to God’s favor. Jesus’ death settled the debt we owed by sinning, and opened up the gates of heaven for us once more. When Jesus’ death is understood in light of salvation spirituality, his was a necessary sacrifice for all mankind. The reasoning, according to St Anselm in 1097, goes something like this: the human race has sinned, from Adam on down, and all crime must have punishment. Therefore, God must require a punishment, a price, before God can forgive our sins or crimes. God’s anger will only be appeased by human sacrifice. This human sacrifice must be unblemished and perfect, so no one other than Jesus, the God-Man will be adequate. Jesus died for my sins. The payment has been made, the debt has been satisfied. (4.) Jesus came to save us. And that job is finished. Sorry folks, I just don’t buy it. For many of us, both in and out of the Christian communion, this notion of substitutionary atonement is more of a stumbling block than a help. For many of us, this reasoning flies in the face of our understanding of God as Abba, a loving daddy. What parent would demand the death of a son or daughter as payment for disobedience? Not a normal one. Oh yes, Jesus came to save us, but not in the way we expected Jesus became human to show us how to save ourselves from ourselves. He came to give us a vision of how life could be if it were ordered according to the principles of God instead of principles of humans. Jesus came to show us how to love. How to heal, and how to forgive. And this is what he did from one dusty corner of Israel to other. This is what he preached when he spoke of the laborers in the vineyard, or the Prodigal Son. This is what he did when he refused to counter violence with violence in his last hours on this earth. The legacy Jesus left is there for all of us to recall, recounted every time we pick up a gospel reading. Too often we look on Jesus’ death as a one-time solution to all that ails the earth. Too often we pray to God for an end to war, or poverty or injustice, expecting God to make it happen without any change or effort on our part. God has chosen since the beginning of time, to work in and through humans, and if the kingdom of heaven is to be attained, it must be through our own efforts, using the words and works of Jesus as a lodestar. And when he died on that dark and dreadful day, his part in the drama we call the History of the Earth was over. It was finished. God or no God, by becoming fully human, one in solidarity with all of humanity, it was ordained that he would die--and the manner of his dying showed those who suffer: “I will suffer with you.” He had done all he could to leave behind a legacy of love and mission. Unfortunately, the world Jesus left behind is a broken, messy world, riddled with sin and selfishness, and the project of healing is an interactive one between God and us. It is our job to do our part to finish what Jesus started. And it that sense, it is not finished. Look around folks. We got trouble, right here in River City. Right here on our small planet, we are busy killing one another and have been doing so since the days of Cain and Abel. When we speak of war casualties—which in this war, numbers 4300 and counting—we rarely count the losses to our “enemy.” When we speak of deterrents, we don’t always stop to consider that our little planet has enough weapons of mass destruction stockpiled to annihilate every person on this earth. On our small planet, we are punching holes in the ozone layer, polluting the oceans with oil spills and ruining rivers and streams with industrial waste. Some animals, driven out of their habitat by encroaching civilization and industrialization, starve or are killed for profit. Currently, there are over 1000 species of birds and mammals that are facing extinction. And let us not forget that the collateral damage of war is the scorching of Mother earth itself. IT IS NOT FINISHED! Right here in this land of the free, last time I looked, bigotry and prejudice were alive and well. Stories of discrimination and hate crimes against Blacks, Asians, gays, women, Jews, Muslims; against “those people” who are not like us—these stories are in the newspaper and on the daily news every day. Every day! Right here in this prosperous country, the younger you are, the more vulnerable you are. Among industrialized countries, America is the first in military technology, in military exports, in defense expenditures, in millionaires and billionaires, in health technology, but 17th in efforts to lift children out of poverty, 18th in infant mortality, last in protecting our children against gun violence. As our country has grown richer, our children have grown poorer. (5.) Every 40 seconds a child is born into poverty. Every minute a child is born without health insurance. Every three minutes a child is arrested for drug abuse. Every six minutes a child is arrested for a violent crime. Every eighteen minutes a baby dies. Every two hours a firearm kills a child or youth. Every day in America 8189 children are reported abused or neglected. (6.) Every day. IT IS SO NOT FINISHED! Right here in our own small town, today and tomorrow people are surging or sending surrogates into the grocery stores to provision for the Easter feast as if it were the last banquet. As we exit the stores we don’t even see the people sitting outside on an upended box with crudely lettered cardboard signs saying: “Homeless. Out of Work. Please help.” As darkness closes in, small groups of desperate people arrange their meager bundles for another night in the open. The homeless shelters are full, the lines at St. Anthony’s get longer and longer. Right here in our small town, many of the elderly have to make a choice between food and medication, between food and heat. Right here. IT IS NOT FINISHED! And we pray to God to fix it. “Please God, give us peace. Stop people from fighting with us. Please God, stop people from polluting the earth. Please God, end discrimination and poverty and safeguard the most vulnerable.” I ask you, is this the best we can do to love one another as Jesus has loved us? I think we can do better. Jesus is no longer with us, and in the words of St Theresa of Avila: “God has no body now but yours. Yours are the eyes with which he looks compassion on the world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands with which he blesses all the earth.” Instead, Let us pray to God to fix us: Jesus, Man of Peace, Give us the wisdom to look beyond military power and brute force to see that the collateral damage of war is often the life of an innocent child, or somebody’s mother or hundreds and thousands of homeless and dislocated souls living in refugee camps. Lord of Consolation, I want to see with loving eyes all those lonely and hopeless ones who have no one to talk to, who are locked in their own misery, who are too old to matter to anyone any more. Give me eyes of compassion to look at the faces behind the faces that I meet every day. Help me to see as fellow travelers those tucked into homes lighted for the evening, and in the homeless who arrange their bundles at the end of the day. Give me ears to hear the voices of the needy and the non-voices of silent desperation. Help me to have the courage and the energy to spend something of myself on their behalf Give me a heart that cares and words to heal. Jesus, brother and friend, you left us an awesome and difficult task--It is not finished. I am not finished. I have barely begun.

1. adapted from God Has A Story Too by James A. Sanders, Elizabeth Hay Bechtel Professor of Intertestamental and Biblical Studies at the School of Theology, Claremont, California, and Professor of Religion at Claremont Graduate School. He is also the author of Torah and Canon.. This material was prepared for Religion Online by Paul Mobley. God Has A Story Too was published in 1979 by Fortress Press, Philadelphia
2. Ibid
3. Ibid
4. Crossan, John Dominic and Borg, Marcus: The Last Week, p139
5. Walter Burghardt: To Be Just is to Love, 190
6. Ibid

Exaltation of the Cross by Catherine Wolff

Sept. 14, 2008

My early school days were spent at St. Agnes Grammar School up in San Francisco. I’m old enough that seeing a movie was a major treat in those days, and the nuns who ran St. Agnes must have invested all their savings in the one movie we had in our library—a Spanish film that came out in the mid-1950’s called The Miracle of Marcellino. My memory of the exact plot is a bit sketchy—Marcellino was a poor little orphan who had been taken in by the monks in a very austere monastery, and there was an episode having to do with a scorpion bite, and a miracle involving bread and wine. But I do have vivid, enduring memories of the conversations that Marcellino would have with Jesus. He was a lonely little boy who visited the chapel regularly to pray out loud in front of a crucifix that seemed to be at least 15 feet tall. After awhile Jesus, from way up on the cross, started talking back in a deep, rich, sorrowful voice. It was a great comfort to Marcellino but it was absolutely terrifying to me as a 6 or 7-year-old. I was worried that any number of crucifixes that hung all over Catholic 1950’s San Francisco would start speaking to me, but really what was most disturbing was that Jesus was somehow still hanging on the cross, now, today. Now this was in the days just before Vatican II, when there was still considerable emphasis on the cross as ransom for sin, and on our personal and collective culpability in Jesus’ suffering and death. The story of the cross was told in terms of the sacrifice necessary for the redemption of our sins, one that we find in the Synoptic Gospels. This was a story that implied that God was deeply offended, that he required appeasement, recompense, and that since no mere human could make up for the estrangement that we humans had chosen, God had to send His own son to make amends, and to require of Him the ultimate sacrifice of death. But there is another way to understand the cross. If we consider God’s love to be the real basis for hope, instead of the terrible ransom of Jesus’ life, we can tell another version of the story. It starts with creation itself, where God begins to reveal Himself, freely and forgivingly, as we see in today’s first reading about his care for his hungry and confused people wandering in the desert. And in this story creation is not an event that is contained in the past but is actually ongoing in history, ongoing in our hearts. The next phase in this unfolding revelation of God’s love is the Incarnation. This is not a desperate salvage job, where God has to intervene in human history to help set it right. We already see him intervening continuously throughout the Old Testament, through the covenant which He kept so lovingly and faithfully and His People kept so badly. The Incarnation is God breaking directly, physically, into history in human form in the person of Jesus. In fact, the great Franciscan Duns Scotus made a powerful argument that the Incarnation is God’s primary redemptive act. He said that the Incarnation was first and foremost in God’s mind from the beginning. It could not have been dependent on, or occasioned by, any action of humans, especially sin. The language of John’s Gospel, which we hear today, does not stress Jesus’ death as ransom, sacrifice, atonement, as the Synoptic Gospels do. In John and Ephesians, in Duns Scotus and Karl Rahner, the crucifixion is part of Jesus’ glorification, not only a sacrifice but a manifestation of the lengths to which God is willing to go to bring us closer to him. All of Jesus’ work was redemptive, all of it ennobled our human nature he took on for us -- his healing, his teaching, and as we heard from Paul today, his obedience unto death, even death on a cross. Jesus was a prophet in a long tradition that believed in the power of suffering to atone for wrongdoing, and because he was so faithful to God’s will, he come to understand that he was to die, and that his death was a sacrifice for others. Jesus resolutely accepted his fate, and his faithfulness persisted throughout his terrible suffering and into his death. But so did the Father’s outpouring of love. We know that because Jesus was raised from the dead, and we are given new life in the Kingdom that came about as a result. And yet that Kingdom is often so difficult to realize. We still suffer. You do, I do. I think of my long walk with my brother down the road to his death from brain cancer. I think of my friend Mary who has carried her schizophrenic brother for twenty years now. I wonder where so many Katrina victims are—they never came home again. And when I see pictures of children in Darfur it seems as though much of humankind is still nailed to a cross. How can we find hope in our suffering, in the suffering of Jesus on the cross? How can we come to comprehend the reality that the cross contains not only the suffering but also the incarnation and the exaltation of Jesus? That it contains not only failure and scandal and pain but also victory and the promise of eternal life? Jesus already triumphed, and yet you and I here today are not yet capable of living fully in the Kingdom he established. We are more like the Hebrews wandering around in the desert, complaining about wretched food and ravaged by serpents. In the rather mysterious passage we heard earlier, Moses had to appeal to God who told him to make an image of the serpent, mount it on a pole, and to have everybody who had been bitten look at it, and as a result, actually live. God had his people confront that which terrified them, and in doing so they were healed. In fact, Jesus recalls that very event in the gospel we heard today—He tells us that as Moses raised up the serpent for his people, the Son of Man is also lifted up so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. The Son of Man lifted up on the cross is a dreadful sight to see. It requires us to confront not only Jesus’ suffering but our own demons, and our own suffering borne in His body. This is a powerful lesson of the cross—that we cannot turn away from suffering. We must assume our crosses as faithfully as Jesus did; we must suffer in order to be healed. In being healed we will be able to accept Jesus’ reassurance that the cross is the occasion for the great manifestation of God’s love for us, not a condemnation of the world but a promise that the world is saved.

A Good Friday Meditation Adapted from Sr. Marina Wiederkehr, O.S.B. from Behold Your Life: A Pilgrimage Through Your Memories

Into your hands I commit my spirit.

Read Psalm 31. Stand beneath the cross of Jesus today and embrace the mystery of suffering—that mystery that none of us can fully understand. Touch anew the ways suffering has been your teacher. I once heard someone say: “I am in pain but I am not suffering.” At the time I wondered what she meant. Now I think I know. Perhaps it has something to do with acceptance. Ponder the difference between suffering and pain. Just be there with Jesus today and accept the healing that is within your reach. Hold gently the pain of the entire world this day. Today I am contemplating the mystery of suffering. Now that I am here at he foot of the cross what can I say that matters? I am putting my life on the cross with Jesus, but what does that mean? I can’t put any of those memories on the cross without putting myself on the cross with them. I cannot disconnect myself from my pain and suffering. And so I feel it all again: the resentments, the angers, the pain of rejection, the fears, the guilt, the sin and immaturity, my jealousies and envy, my addictions and my loneliness! They are all here with me on this Good Friday. And now that I’m here with all this baggage, I do not even pray to be rid of it. Standing before the cross I proclaim a gospel that God undestands, “Here is my life. This is who I am. This is what I have to offer you. Here is my gospel—my bittersweet good news. I am wounded, broken, and scarred. Yet with all these burdens I am still able to be your song.” Even here at the foot of the cross my blessings seem to stand in the background. I invite them to come closer, and they do. They step forward. It feels like a great homecoming. Everyone is present. Deep gratitude is here. She stands close by me, reminding me of all the ways she’s blessed me. Immense love and healing grace are present. Fierce yearning is here. Constant conversion and childlike trust have arived. Always forgiving is here. Abundant joy is present. Lasting beauty stands by my side. Ever faithful smiles through the crowd. Even quiet peace has arrived at the scene. The two sides stand and look at each other as if to say, “We’re not really divided. We’ve always been one.” The blessings embrface the bruises. The bite is gone in that embrace. I look upon the cross and I am healed, I look upon what has bitten me and blessed me and I am mended. Yes! There is a great mending on this Friday that is good. Jesus, never allow me to turn away from my life again. I put the gospel of my life into your hands. In your good time I know that you will wrap a cloak of transformation around me. Now it is time to wait and keep vigil with your love that has been poured out. In some small way I know that my love has mingled with yours. Together we will wait for resurrection.

First Impressions—The Easter Vigil by Jude Siciliano, OP

Genesis 1:1–2:2 (Psalm 104), Genesis 22:1-18 (Psalm 16), Exodus 14:15–15:1 (Ex 15), Isaiah 54:5-14 (Psalm 30), Isaiah 55:1-11 (Is 12), Baruch 3:9-15, 32-4:4 (Psalm 19), Ezekiel 36:16-17a, 18-28 (Psalm 42), Romans 6:3-11, Psalm 118:1-2, 16-17, 22-23, 1 Corinthians 11:23-26, Matthew 28:1-10

We have a rich diet of scriptures this evening! Let’s pause for a momentary overview and notice their flow. Start with the creation account and the pair of humans who are given stewardship for what God has created. This is a perfect reading to address how well or poorly we have done in our care of what God has placed in our hands—the created world around us. With the daily extinction of plant and animal species throughout the world and the pollution of rivers, fields and air in our immediate environment, we must seriously ask if the original blessing God said over the humans in the garden has really taken! If it has, then why don’t we share the Creator’s love for everything God saw as “good?” It is because sin entered the world and defaced the image and likeness of God that was created in each of us. We are in need of help. God comes to help us, and it begins with a call. Abraham and Sarah are God’s called and chosen ones and from them shall come descendants who will “find blessing.” The third reading shows God’s deliverance of the enslaved chosen people and reflects how God will deliver us from sin—through the parting-waters. Tonight’s readings carry a strong baptismal theme. Hear the prophets Isaiah, Baruch and Ezekiel proclaim God’s forgiveness and invitation to a wayward people to return to “the One who has become your husband…” If nothing else, the prophets make quite clear that God is crazy in love with us! Where shall we go for rebirth and renewal? Isaiah directs us, “All who are thirsty, come to the water!” God’s graciousness is the strongest message from these readings. This graciousness does not come because the people have been faithful. Based on their own merits, Ezekiel says, they would deserve nothing, for they have “profaned among the nations” God’s holy name. “Not for your sakes do I act, house of Israel, but for the sake of my holy name...” God just continues to be loving and forgiving despite how we act, because God just can’t help it. It’s God’s nature! And God is always doing what comes naturally! This night the biblical waters will flow again as new Christians are initiated into our community. While we humans have taken some meandering paths since our creation that have turned us away from God’s original blessing and plan for us, tonight’s readings remind us of God’s faithfulness to us. We may not have deserved such a “crazy-lover”, but God tells us through Ezekiel that, “for the sake of my holy name,” God will not let us go. We hear in the readings God’s ultimate act of love for us, the sending of the Son. Jesus shows by his life and message that God loves us despite ourselves. Even under threat of death, Jesus will not renege or back away from this message. Isaiah described it well, God would not give up on us, “So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; my word shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I send it.” (fourth reading.) The congregation will be somewhat fatigued by the evening hour and the length of the readings. But that is no excuse to omit the homily; just keep it focused and short. We will have ample opportunity to preach from several resurrection and post-resurrection accounts over the next weeks. I thought my preaching this evening would focus on the Romans text. It grabs my attention as it speaks about being “baptized into his death.” What does it mean and what are its consequences for our life? No one talks about that at baptisms—“baptized into his death.” Why not? Is it because it would turn off potential candidates? Is it because we want to stress the bright side, the resurrection and new life? Of course we do. But these Triduum days remind us that to get to the resurrection, Jesus had to pass first through his death. We need to have a dying of who we are and what we have been—we too need to pass through death to get to a new life, a new way of living. In a manner of speaking, we were baptized first into the human experience—the waters of the womb was our first baptism. We were immersed into the human condition. It is our life and the only life we would have known. Besides its joys, there are the limitations, and the contagion we caught just by walking along with others in our condition. We catch the illness of the tubercular ward just by walking through it and breathing the air. Sin is in the air, and we breathe it in from the first breaths we take—it is racism, sexism, aggressions, selfishness—you know the list. We have been breathing this stale and contaminating air all our lives. We have to stop breathing in this way and begin breathing in a new way. We have, according to Paul, to die and have a whole new life. How can this happen? Paul has a special moment in mind when he speaks to Christians about having died. He is speaking about being “baptized into Christ.” Paul sees Christ as a representative figure; he is the new human being (Adam). In 2 Cor. 5:15-15) Paul’s teaching reflects this representation model when he says that Christ’s death was on behalf of us all—he died and so “all have died.” He died and we die by being linked to him in our baptism. At a particular moment, our baptism, we died to sin. (Read back a few verses for this, 6:1-3) Baptism in the early church looked like a dying and a rising. Remember that immersion was the more typical form of baptism. To be immersed in water was to be “buried”—when you came up from the water you were “raised.” (Acts 8: 36-39) You stopped breathing when you went under the water. When you came up you took your first breath as an entirely new person, the way an infant takes a first breath at birth. This baptismal dying involved the ending of our past way of living. So, whereas we once lived in sin, now we live in a whole new life. Notice the continual use of the expression used to describe who the baptized are we are “with him”—with him through baptism, “with him through a death like his,” “crucified with him,” “died with him,” and “shall also live with him.” The words Paul uses to describe being “grown into union with him” literally translated means, “grown together with him.” It is like a grafting. We are now, through our baptism, grafted to Christ; growing together with him. We were buried in death with him and so we will be raised with him. The final resurrection is still in the future. We are very aware this new state of union, grafting into Jesus, is far from a perfected state. We are in the in-between time, awaiting what Paul assures us will come, “we shall live with him.” And so, the human struggle against the “bad air” of sin continues. It is an atmospheric pollution in our lives; hard to take a breath without breathing it in. But we are not on our own. We first of all have a new life in us and Paul reminds us that, “Christ died to sin, once for all.” That means that, though sin killed him, it did not defeat him. He triumphed over sin in his lifetime and he won the final battle over sin at his death. Now his new life contains that victory and our being grafted to him passes that victory to us. The union brings his resurrected life with its power over sin to us. Now we live directed and energized by a new life force. We look to the completion when, because of our union with him, we will be “united with him in the resurrection.”

Quotable

Christianity is not merely a religion that was marketed well with just the right political spin by gifted writers. It is a living, breathing, ongoing conversation between God, humanity and all creation empowered by the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Without the resurrection, there would have been no Christianity, no Christendom, no hymns, no seminaries, no churches and no nativity scenes. Jesus lives, not in the sense that King Lear or Hamlet or Handel’s Messiah live on in the hearts and minds of the people, but in the sense that something totally new has happened and keeps happening. The resurrection is the ultimate breakthrough of God into our world that transcends all nature and history. Without it, we wouldn’t care one whit about Bethlehem and the manger, which is why every year my wife and I try to send Easter letters instead of Christmas cards and I congratulate all the once-a-year visitors for choosing Easter above all others. At least they picked the right Sunday to come!

–William J. Carl III, in “The Living Pulpit” (January-March 1998)

Faith Book

Mini-reflections on the Sunday scripture readings designed for persons on the run. “Faith Book” is also brief enough to be posted in the Sunday parish bulletins people take home.

From today’s Gospel: After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to see the tomb… The angel said to the women..., “Do not be afraid! I know that you are seeking Jesus the crucified. He is not here, for he has been raised just as he said.”

Reflection: It is, “After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning.” The event happens on an ordinary day in the week when people are finished with the sabbath and have returned to their daily work and routines—mostly struggling at very hard work to feed and support their families. Don’t expect resurrection appearances just on high holy days, in dedicated places and under certain, ideal conditions. Look for the Risen One where “the rubber hits the road,” in daily life, while doing ordinary chores. If the Risen Christ isn’t with us where we work out our Christian lives, he is still in the grave with the stone still sealing the entrance and the guards keeping close watch.

So, we ask ourselves:

• Have I discovered new life after a deep loss or disappointment?

• Who helped me find it?

• How can I bring the Risen Christ to another person suffering loss, or death?

Holy Thursday

April 2, 2026

Service to others is a hallmark of a disciple of Jesus.

Companions for the Journey as we enter the Triduum:

1. We must be careful these days not to caricature the Jewish faith. The Gospels portray its piety and leaders in a very unsympathetic light. Don’t become an unconscious anti-Semite. Such bashing of the Jews can reveal an insecure faith, seeking assurance in caricaturing the faith of others. Jewish people suffered their worst pogroms during Holy Week at the hands of Christians. So, we need to be careful of subtle forms of anti-Semitism.

2. We must be careful to respect the integrity of each Gospel. Don’t harmonize or fill in to make a composite picture. Stay within the text and treat it distinctively, learn how each writer saw and witnessed the Christ event. For example, notice that no one gospel has all seven phrases of the “Last Words.” “Seven Last Words of Jesus” in the four gospel accounts of The Passion:

Mark: My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
Matthew: My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
Luke: Father forgive them; they don’t know what they are doing.
Today you shall be with me in Paradise.
Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.
John: Woman, here is your son. Here is your mother.
I thirst.
It is finished.

3. Remember that the principle actor is God. There are some key figures in the stories for meditation (Peter, Pilate, etc.), but in the Gospels this week Jesus absorbs our attention. Put aside all else, even the “moral lessons.” We see nothing but Jesus, and him crucified. What is God doing and saying to us this week?

4. The Triduum is a unity: this contradicts the conventional wisdom that sees each day as a separate unit. Note that in each day of the Triduum there is explicit reference to the whole paschal liturgy. Each particular day commemorates the whole of the mystery, while at the same time emphasizing one aspect of the events. So we experience Good Friday in its defeat and pain in the light of the hope of the resurrection; we experience Easter in its glory, reminded of the seeming hopelessness of Good Friday. The renewed emphasis isn’t on “holy week” but on the consciousness of the passion and resurrection as intimately bound to our own lives as church.

5. I want to be careful how I think about suffering and death during these days. I wonder how we can think of them as positive? In the Scriptures of the Jewish people, suffering and death are to be avoided and, where possible, alleviated. The hope we have as Christians is that God will do away with both at the end. It seems to be always the poor who suffer the most, who always are the victims. So, during these days we might resolve to become more fully involved with God’s plan to alleviate suffering by alleviating the suffering of the poor through deeper involvement in social programs. Good Friday, for example, should not be a day that keeps a silence of inattention to the suffering of others. If we keep a silence this day, it may be to ponder the suffering of those around us and to resolve to do something about it. If we fast, or partially fast this day, it might be to do so in solidarity with those who have too little to eat, using whatever we did not spend a give it away to someone in need, or to an organization that helps feed the poor.

GOSPEL FOR HOLY THURSDAY: JOHN 13:1-15

Before the feast of Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to pass from this world to the Father. He loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end. The devil had already induced Judas, son of Simon the Iscariot, to hand him over. So, during supper, fully aware that the Father had put everything into his power and that he had come from God and was returning to God, he rose from supper and took off his outer garments. He took a towel and tied it around his waist. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and dry them with the towel around his waist. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Master, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus answered and said to him, “What I am doing, you do not understand now, but you will understand later.” Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered him, “Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Master, then not only my feet, but my hands and head as well.” Jesus said to him, “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.” For he knew who would betray him; for this reason, he said, “Not all of you are clean.” So when he had washed their feet and put his garments back on and reclined at table again, he said to them, “Do you realize what I have done for you? You call me ‘teacher’ and ‘master,’  and rightly so, for indeed I am. If I, therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another’s feet. I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.”

Reflection Questions:
Normally, in Jesus’ time, a slave would be ordered to wash the feet of guests. What does it tell me that Jesus choose to perform this humiliating act?

Jesus’ claim to power confused the disciples, because he used his power to perform an act of service.
How do I view power?
Is it always a bad thing?
What have I done for others with whatever powers I possess?

How does it feel to be the recipient of another’s efforts, kindness, largesse?
Does it seem demeaning?
What mindset can I adopt in order to summon up genuine, gracious acceptance

Peter was reluctant to submit to having Jesus see how dirty his feet were. It was demeaning.
What dirty little secrets have I withheld from others?
What dirty little secrets do I think I have hidden from Jesus?

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination:
Imagine that you are one of the twelve settling in for a Passover meal with Jesus. Does this night seem special to you? Where is it being held? Who prepares and serves the meal? What are you eating/drinking? Are there any women present? What of the old stories of the first Passover stand out for you? How do you and your companions view Jesus this evening? Does he seem any different? What do you make of the exchange with Judas, and then with Peter? Do either of them make you uncomfortable? Is there anything in the conversation that puzzles you? What is the message that you take away from the evenings activities, or are you puzzled by the curious events? Do modern readers, who know the outcome of that fateful evening, view the events differently? What message in contained in this story for modern readers? What message is there in that story for me?

Music Meditations:
“Servant Song” by Servantofthelion
“Whatsoever You Do” by Robert Kolchis
“The Call” by John Bell

A HOLY THURSDAY MEDITATION ADAPTED FROM BEHOLD YOUR LIFE: A PILGRIMAGE THROUGH YOUR MEMORIES BY SR. MARINA WIEDERKEHR. O.S.B.

As I have done, so you must do!

On this memorial of Holy Thursday contemplate how your life has been a eucharist: a song of thanksgiving. Two important rituals took pllace during the meal that Jesus shared with ihs disciples the night before he died. The first ritual was that of sharing a meal together during which bread was blessed, broken and passed on to one another to be eaten. The cup of wine beame the cup of blessing because it, too, was shared. The second ritual was the loving action of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. Beccause this meal was the last meal Jesus shared with his friends before he died, it is often referred to as the Last Supper. He knew that Christians throughout the ages would celebrate it again and again. He knew that the eucharist would be all-embracing—that his presence would be real and vibrant, far beyond the wafer we receive on Sunday mornings. Jesus knew that his pressence would extend to the gathered assebly, his visible body on earth: the body of Christ. It has even been said that we should think seriously about receving communion if we cannot receive every person gathered with us—and beyond. Jesus knew that every time we gather round the table in love, he would be the silent, unseen guest, and eucharist would take place. He know that the eucharist is all-embracing, It cannot exclude. Perhps ths is why Jesus didn’t exclude Judas at the Last Supper. Jesus also knew that we would exclude some people from the eucharist, calling them unbelievers, because not everyone believes in the same way. Consider these things today:

• What does it mean to be a believer?

• How has your believing transformed your life?

• How well have you fed others?

• How well have you been eucharist?

Ponder these questions in the silence of your hearts. I refresh my memory today, I call back into my mind and heart eucharistic moments throughout my life. Eucharist means thanksgiving. It often happens at a table, but not always. There is another table called daily life, there are many eucharistic moments right in the midst of everyday life.I envision myself gathered around that table with Jesus and his friends the night before he dies. We are celebrating that great moment of thanksgiving for having been delivered out of slavery. We break the bread. We share the cup. We chant hymns. Jesus say that this is his body and we should do this often in memory of him. I recognize this moment as eucharist and I am full of joy that I can be present. But something else happened at the table that night. I sometimes forget the other eucharistic moment, Jesus got up from the table and washed my feet. He washed everyone’s feet, even Judas’. It has taken me a long time, but I’m finally beginning to read between the lines of that foot-washing moment. Jesus wasns’t just trying to teach me by example that I should wash the feet of others. Oh, it was more than that. I’ll never forget the look on his face as he washed my feet, His heart was overflowing with sorrow, love,and gratitude as he ministered to us. He had to wash our feet because he loved us. He was giving us eucharist again. It was as powerful as the moment he broke the bread and said; “This is y body!”. As he tenderly held my feet he seemed to be saying again; “This is my body!” Now that I’ve grown older, I look back at this moment and understand that he was calling us all to be servants—not doormats, but servants! The difference between being a doormat and a servant is the difference between living in slavery or freedom. To be a servant means to let Jesus sing his song to us, in us, and through us. Only free people can be servants. Only free people can be eucharist for one another. I am beginning to see how I sometimes allow my distracted and addictive life to smother the song of thanksgiving in me, I pause now and call to mind moments whenI have forgotten to be eucharist—times when I have silenced the song within. Yes. There are days when my song has been unsung and the people around me have starved for lack of eucharist. I forgive myself as with great compassion I touch those memories. On this holy day, I also call up all the times when I have not forgotten. I can remember days when I have allowed Jesus to make music with my life—to sing songs through me. I remember times when I have handed out bread and washed feet with abandon. There have been seasons when I have celebated the eucharist at the table of daily life as well as at the altar. I heart the echo of Jesus’ words, “This is my body!”, and did not turn away. Jesus, your words are clear. Your two rituals from the Last Supper live on in my life. Deep inside of me the call to be eucharist throbs unceasingly. I hear your voice, echoing through the ages, “This is my body!”. “Yes”, I say, as I reach for the bread at the altar. “Yes”, I say as I reach for the hand of my brother and sister. Your second ritual, too, aches to be fulfilled in me.”As I have done, do must you do”. Help me never to block your song of love in me. Lead me to those who long for their feet to be washed. And so today, my dearest Lord who washes feet, I sit down at the table with new confidence, It is never too late to be eucharist. Almost anything can happen when you share a meal. Anything can happen at the table of daily life. Amen.

REFLECTIONS ON THE GOSPEL

First Impressions by Jude Siciliano, OP

Exodus 12: 1-8, 11-14; Psalm 116; 1Cor. 11: 23-26; John 13: 1-15

When I was a boy I used to watch professional wrestling matches on a black and white television with my grandfather. The other night I came across a wrestling match as I was flipping through the channels, and I paused and recalled those boyhood memories. I was struck by how much professional wrestling has changed since I was a boy. Now it’s in full color and with great spectacle. When the wrestlers for a match are announced they come down a long ramp, illuminated by spotlights, flashing strobe lights and fireworks. There’s dramatic music too, lots of trumpets and drums. Quite a change from what I remembered. But in other ways the past and present bouts are similar. You can still tell from the wrestlers’ appearances and mannerisms who the heroes and villains are. The crowds know immediately who the “good guys” and “bad guys” are – and these days the wrestlers are just as likely to be women. They cheer and boo for their favorites. When the match starts, at first the hero is beaten up, or so it seems – it still looks phony. Then, as if by divine intervention, he or she gets up from the mat, gathers strength and proceeds to wallop the villain. From out of nowhere, it seems, the weakened hero has been given a gift of new life and power to overwhelm the villain. Of course, it is all drama and pretense. (I was told once there is a drama school in Manhattan for wrestlers to perfect their acting technique.) When the victim hero got up to stride forward to finish off the rival, my grandfather and I would say, “Oh, oh, here it comes!” The wrestling match comes to mind because of today’s gospel. Throughout John’s gospel Jesus has been doing battle against evil and death. It has been a wrestling match; not the fake television kind, but a life and death struggle against very real and powerful opponents. He has confronted sin and death in the surrounding world and also in the resistance of the religious leaders to his message. Death’s powers have come close to him. For example, two weeks ago many of us heard the Lazarus story. We watched Jesus weep at his friend’s tomb as he confronted death’s power to inflict pain and loss among those he loved – and to himself as well. In today’s gospel John says that Jesus, “was fully aware that the Father had put everything into his power....” Then we are told that Jesus “rose from supper.” I remember those television matches and I wonder, is this going to be one of those, “Oh, oh, here it comes” moments? Will Jesus use the power he has been given to overcome his enemies? Will he name and condemn his betrayer? Will he smite the Roman army? Dash over to the Temple and cast out his religious opponents and banish the unfaithful? Will he break his previous pattern of patiently instructing his disciples, dismiss them and go get a better and brighter crop of followers? What will Jesus do when he rises from table with all that power available to him. Well, he certainly surprised his disciples. And he continues to surprise us this day. Jesus rises and washes his disciples’ feet. That’s not how they, or we, would use all the power, were it available to us. How do we know? Because it isn’t the way power is usually used in our world: nations dominate nations; one ethnic group purges its rival; one religion proclaims its dominance over others; some parents, by word and example, teach their children to succeed at any cost; some church officials cut off dialogue over disputed issues; news commentators shout down one another on talk shows; businesses take over weaker rivals, etc. It does seem that when some nations, organizations, religions and individuals come to power, other groups must shudder and say, “Oh, oh, here it comes!” – and suffer the consequences. Having power is not necessarily a bad thing and Jesus’ life and today’s gospel are examples of ways to use power to the benefit and for the good of others. His use of power is also an example to us. I have friends who belong to a mediation group. They use the term “practice” to refer to their daily meditative exercise. So, they schedule into their day a half hour meditation each morning and evening. It’s their “practice” and they have been doing it regularly for some years. They try to support this “practice” by other disciplines. They play meditative music in their home; occasionally join group meditative sittings; read books about meditation, etc. In other words, they feed their basic practice with an appropriate life style. But while they may change routines and what they do for the rest of the day, they stay faithful to their meditation schedule. It is their basic “practice.” Notice the word they use – “practice.” It takes the perfectionist pressure off what they do, they don’t have to do it perfectly. They can be patient and tolerant when they let things slip or they don’t feel a meditation went as they had hoped. They can say, “I am no expert, I am just a beginner. I just practice, maybe I’ll get it right someday. Someday it will be easier and better---right now I practice.” There are a lot of levels of application in today’s foot washing story. We are at Jesus’ last supper with his disciples and so we think of the Eucharist. The other three gospels already have the account of the institution of the Eucharist, so John doesn’t have to repeat that. Instead, he narrates the washing of the feet and in doing that, links it to the Eucharist. From now on, disciples cannot think of the Eucharist without Jesus’ example and instruction to us, his disciples, about the washing of feet. After he washes their feet Jesus tells his disciples, “...you ought to wash one another’s feet. I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.” Before we get too work-oriented and think about what we must do, let’s reflect on what the washing means for us. First of all, it reminds us that we are recipients. In washing his disciples’ feet, Jesus has acted as the lowly servant, given his life in service for others. As a church, we are who we are because of Jesus’ offering of himself. The washing reminds us that our baptism unites us to Jesus and his death. He has gained life for us, something we couldn’t do on our own. Our washing, our baptism, is what puts us in touch with that life, “Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me.” Now, with that new life, we hear Jesus’ instruction, “As I have done for you, you should also do.” So, we too are called to lay down our lives in service to others – and we set about practicing the life we have received. We learn our “practice” from him. And of course, as with any other “practice,” we probably won’t get it perfect, but we will keep at it. Eucharist is our most basic “practice” for Jesus’ disciples; it is the center of our spirituality and is what we regularly return to. It is not only that we attend Eucharist, but, because of the foot washing, we try to put it into practice by serving the needs of others. We try to act towards the world as Jesus acted towards us, by being his faithful witness and serving others, even to the point of giving our lives. Have we gotten it perfect yet? No. That’s why we return to Eucharist and that’s why we keep practicing in our daily lives what we have learned at Eucharist.

Quotable

Prayer for All Migrants to Saint Joseph, persecuted and courageous migrant

Saint Joseph
You who have experienced the suffering
of those who must flee
You who were forced to flee
to save the lives of those dearest to you
Protect all those who flee because of
war, hatred, hunger
Support them in their difficulties
strengthen them in hope
and let them find welcome and solidarity
Guide their steps and open the hearts
of those who can help them. Amen
(Pope Francis, Catechesis on Saint Joseph, December 29, 2021, quoted in the Houston Catholic Worker Newsletter Jan-March 2022)

Music Meditations for Holy Thursday
(All are on YouTube)

“Ubi Caritas” by Taize
“I Have Loved You” Michael Joncas

COMPANIONS FOR THE JOURNEY

(Pinched from somewhere; source unknown)
Jesus is saying this: “you want to know what we’re doing at this last supper? By my taking bread and wine, this cup, and sharing it among you, by my washing of the feet, I want you to understand what the eucharist would mean. The eucharist would be forever a living symbol that I am in your midst urging you to do that service, When I take this bread and say, ’Look, this is my body, and it’s broken for you. This is the cup of my blood shed for you.’ And so the Christian community should do that as well.” So this is the holiest night of the year, as it were, the time when Christians harken back to almost 2000 years ago; into a room which was less than half the size of most churches, with apostles gathered like ourselves, and the twelve represented by these participants tonight. And we have met in order to remember what eucharist means. Jesus, in our midst, urges us “Take your body and give it for others, and break it for others, in love. Take the cup of your blood and pour it and empty it, and hold it out and help restore others so that fractured humankind may be whole again. Whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you do it, truly, in memory of me.” My friends, let us try to put ourselves back into that room. Let’s pretend that we’re there and Jesus has just washed our feet, and we’re ashamed, but now we have the message. And during the rest of this service we promise anew to Jesus to be his living community and his presence, and resolve that all shall know we are Christians by our love, one for the other.

WEEKLY MEMORIZATION

Taken from the gospel for today’s session….
At the moment you do not know what I am doing, but later you will understand.

LIVING THE GOOD NEWS

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion? Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions or the meditations which follow.

Reflection Questions:
Love is not a feeling; it is a decision. Jesus chose to love those who had not always been as he would have liked, and who would fail him in the last days of his life. Whom do I choose to love in spite of how I feel?

What does “to the end” mean to you? Is there anyone that you love “to the end”?

How do I “show my love” to those I really love?

How hard is it to do demeaning, servant-like things for another person? What makes it hardr? What makes it easier?

“You are to do exactly as I have done for you”. What has Jesus done for me that I must replicate?

What in my life needs to be cleansed?

Why did Peter react the way he did? Has another person’s ultra-kind, ultra self-sacrificing, or ultra humble behavior ever bothered you? How did you react?

Meditations:

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking questions:
Two reflections on humility:

• Spiritual writer Paula Huston said” Truly humble people are grounded inreality. They neither preen undel illusions of greatness nor suffer agonies of self-hatred.” Where do I fit on this spectrum?

• Rick Warren wrote: “Humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less. What, for you, is true humility? What is false humility?

Poetic Reflection in the Ignatian Style/Imagination: Imagine that you are there in that upper room, that you are Judas. What are you thinking and feeling as you see Jesus kneeling before you, knowing what you area about to do? Then imagine that you are Jesus, knowing what you know about Judas. How do you feel?

Jesus Washes Judas’ Feet by Andreas Kevington
That moment, when you knelt before him,
took off his sandals, readied the water,
did you look up?  Search his eyes?
Find in them some love, some trace
of all that had passed between you?
As you washed his feet, holding them in your hand,
watching the cool water soak away the dirt,
feeling bones through hard skin,
you knew he would leave the lit room,
and slip out into the dark night.
And yet, with these small daily things –
with washing, with breaking and sharing bread,
you reached out your hand, touched, fed.
Look, the kingdom is like this:
as small as a mustard seed, as yeast,
a box of treasure hidden away beneath the dirt.
See how such things become charged,
mighty, when so full of love. This is the way.
In that moment, when silence ebbed between you,
and you wrapped a towel around your waist;
when you knew, and he knew, what would be,
you knelt before him, even so, and took off
his sandals, and gently washed his feet.

POETIC REFLECTION

Read this poem, then write your own note to Jesus about being made whole and clean by him.

The Touch of the Towel
Jesus, you kneel before me
You remove my shoes and I am exposed
My feet are grimy
full of calluses and cracks
pungent with sweat and toe jam
I’m embarrassed by them
I pull back but you reassure
You’re not offended
I feel welcome in your hands
vulnerable, yet safe
The cleansing begins
I see your reflection in the ripples
I see me, too
Your water brings truth and life
Who I am and who I can be
I am whole and home in the touch the towel
You look at my neighbor and hand it to me
poem
© 2011 Lisa Ann Moss Degrenia

Palm Sunday

March 29, 2026

By identifying ourselves with Christ’s passion, we experience a great liberation, a “passover” from sinfulness to joy in God’s love for us.

Mark 14:1—15:47

The Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread were to take place in two days’ time. So the chief priests and the scribes were seeking a way to arrest him by treachery and put him to death. They said, “Not during the festival, for fear that there may be a riot among the people.” When he was in Bethany reclining at table in the house of Simon the leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of perfumed oil, costly genuine spikenard. She broke the alabaster jar and poured it on his head. There were some who were indignant. “Why has there been this waste of perfumed oil? It could have been sold for more than three hundred days’ wages and the money given to the poor.” They were infuriated with her. Jesus said, “Let her alone. Why do you make trouble for her? She has done a good thing for me. The poor you will always have with you, and whenever you wish you can do good to them, but you will not always have me. She has done what she could. She has anticipated anointing my body for burial. Amen, I say to you, wherever the gospel is proclaimed to the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.” Then Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went off to the chief priests to hand him over to them. When they heard him they were pleased and promised to pay him money. Then he looked for an opportunity to hand him over. On the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, when they sacrificed the Passover lamb,  his disciples said to him, “Where do you want us to go and prepare for you to eat the Passover?” He sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the city and a man will meet you, carrying a jar of water. Follow him. Wherever he enters, say to the master of the house, ‘The Teacher says, “Where is my guest room where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?”’ Then he will show you a large upper room furnished and ready. Make the preparations for us there.” The disciples then went off, entered the city, and found it just as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover. When it was evening, he came with the Twelve. And as they reclined at table and were eating, Jesus said, “Amen, I say to you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.” They began to be distressed and to say to him, one by one, “Surely it is not I?” He said to them, “One of the Twelve, the one who dips with me into the dish. For the Son of Man indeed goes, as it is written of him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed. It would be better for that man if he had never been born.” While they were eating, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, and said, “Take it; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, and they all drank from it. He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed for many. Amen, I say to you, I shall not drink again the fruit of the vine until the day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.” Then, after singing a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. Then Jesus said to them, “All of you will have your faith shaken, for it is written: I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be dispersed. But after I have been raised up, I shall go before you to Galilee.” Peter said to him,  “Even though all should have their faith shaken, mine will not be.” Then Jesus said to him, “Amen, I say to you, this very night before the cock crows twice you will deny me three times.” But he vehemently replied, “Even though I should have to die with you, I will not deny you.”And they all spoke similarly. Then they came to a place named Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” He took with him Peter, James, and John, and began to be troubled and distressed. Then he said to them, “My soul is sorrowful even to death. Remain here and keep watch.” He advanced a little and fell to the ground and prayed that if it were possible the hour might pass by him; he said, “Abba, Father, all things are possible to you. Take this cup away from me, but not what I will but what you will.” When he returned he found them asleep. He said to Peter, “Simon, are you asleep? Could you not keep watch for one hour? Watch and pray that you may not undergo the test. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.” Withdrawing again, he prayed, saying the same thing. Then he returned once more and found them asleep, for they could not keep their eyes open and did not know what to answer him. He returned a third time and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? It is enough. The hour has come. Behold, the Son of Man is to be handed over to sinners. Get up, let us go. See, my betrayer is at hand.” Then, while he was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived, accompanied by a crowd with swords and clubs who had come from the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders. His betrayer had arranged a signal with them, saying, “The man I shall kiss is the one; arrest him and lead him away securely.” He came and immediately went over to him and said, “Rabbi.” And he kissed him. At this they laid hands on him and arrested him. One of the bystanders drew his sword, struck the high priest’s servant, and cut off his ear. Jesus said to them in reply, “Have you come out as against a robber, with swords and clubs, to seize me? Day after day I was with you teaching in the temple area, yet you did not arrest me; but that the Scriptures may be fulfilled.” And they all left him and fled. Now a young man followed him wearing nothing but a linen cloth about his body. They seized him, but he left the cloth behind and ran off naked. They led Jesus away to the high priest, and all the chief priests and the elders and the scribes came together. Peter followed him at a distance into the high priest’s courtyard and was seated with the guards, warming himself at the fire. The chief priests and the entire Sanhedrin kept trying to obtain testimony against Jesus in order to put him to death, but they found none. Many gave false witness against him, but their testimony did not agree. Some took the stand and testified falsely against him, alleging, “We heard him say, ‘I will destroy this temple made with hands and within three days I will build another not made with hands.’” Even so their testimony did not agree. The high priest rose before the assembly and questioned Jesus, saying, “Have you no answer? What are these men testifying against you?” But he was silent and answered nothing. Again the high priest asked him and said to him, “Are you the Christ, the son of the Blessed One?” Then Jesus answered, “I am; and ‘you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Power and coming with the clouds of heaven.’” At that the high priest tore his garments and said, “What further need have we of witnesses You have heard the blasphemy. What do you think?” They all condemned him as deserving to die. Some began to spit on him. They blindfolded him and struck him and said to him, “Prophesy!” And the guards greeted him with blows. While Peter was below in the courtyard, one of the high priest’s maids came along. Seeing Peter warming himself, she looked intently at him and said, “You too were with the Nazarene, Jesus.” But he denied it saying, “I neither know nor understand what you are talking about.” So he went out into the outer court. Then the cock crowed. The maid saw him and began again to say to the bystanders, “This man is one of them.” Once again he denied it. A little later the bystanders said to Peter once more, “Surely you are one of them; for you too are a Galilean.” He began to curse and to swear,  “I do not know this man about whom you are talking.” And immediately a cock crowed a second time. Then Peter remembered the word that Jesus had said to him, “Before the cock crows twice you will deny me three times.” He broke down and wept. As soon as morning came, the chief priests with the elders and the scribes, that is, the whole Sanhedrin held a council. They bound Jesus, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate. Pilate questioned him, “Are you the king of the Jews?” He said to him in reply, “You say so.” The chief priests accused him of many things. Again Pilate questioned him, “Have you no answer? See how many things they accuse you of.” Jesus gave him no further answer, so that Pilate was amazed. Now on the occasion of the feast he used to release to them one prisoner whom they requested. A man called Barabbas was then in prison along with the rebels who had committed murder in a rebellion. The crowd came forward and began to ask him to do for them as he was accustomed. Pilate answered, “Do you want me to release to you the king of the Jews?” For he knew that it was out of envy that the chief priests had handed him over. But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release Barabbas for them instead. Pilate again said to them in reply, “Then what do you want me to do with the man you call the king of the Jews?” They shouted again, “Crucify him.” Pilate said to them, “Why?  What evil has he done?” They only shouted the louder, “Crucify him.” So Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released Barabbas to them and, after he had Jesus scourged, handed him over to be crucified. The soldiers led him away inside the palace, that is, the praetorium, and assembled the whole cohort. They clothed him in purple and, weaving a crown of thorns, placed it on him. They began to salute him with, “Hail, King of the Jews!” and kept striking his head with a reed and spitting upon him. They knelt before him in homage. And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of the purple cloak, dressed him in his own clothes, and led him out to crucify him. They pressed into service a passer-by, Simon, a Cyrenian, who was coming in from the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to carry his cross. They brought him to the place of Golgotha—which is translated Place of the Skull—, They gave him wine drugged with myrrh, but he did not take it. Then they crucified him and divided his garments by casting lots for them to see what each should take. It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him. The inscription of the charge against him read, “The King of the Jews.” With him they crucified two revolutionaries, one on his right and one on his left. Those passing by reviled him, shaking their heads and saying, “Aha! You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself by coming down from the cross.” Likewise the chief priests, with the scribes, mocked him among themselves and said, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Christ, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross that we may see and believe.” Those who were crucified with him also kept abusing him. At noon darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And at three o’clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which is translated, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Some of the bystanders who heard it said, “Look, he is calling Elijah.” One of them ran, soaked a sponge with wine, put it on a reed and gave it to him to drink saying, “Wait, let us see if Elijah comes to take him down.” Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. Here all kneel and pause for a short time. The veil of the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom. When the centurion who stood facing him saw how he breathed his last he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!” There were also women looking on from a distance. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of the younger James and of Joses, and Salome. These women had followed him when he was in Galilee and ministered to him. There were also many other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem. When it was already evening, since it was the day of preparation, the day before the sabbath, Joseph of Arimathea, a distinguished member of the council, who was himself awaiting the kingdom of God, came and courageously went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Pilate was amazed that he was already dead. He summoned the centurion and asked him if Jesus had already died. And when he learned of it from the centurion, he gave the body to Joseph. Having bought a linen cloth, he took him down, wrapped him in the linen cloth, and laid him in a tomb that had been hewn out of the rock. Then he rolled a stone against the entrance to the tomb. Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses watched where he was laid.

REFLECTIONS ON THE GOSPEL

First Impressions by Jude Siciliano, OP

(Luke 19: 28-40) Is. 50: 4-7 Philippians 2: 6-11; Luke 22: 14- 23:56

I am focusing today on the gospel procession passage (Luke 19: 28-40) that begins today’s liturgy. Throughout this liturgical year, in Luke’s gospel, we have been hearing Jesus say, “I must go up to Jerusalem.” The opening words of today’s gospel of procession announce that, “Jesus proceeded on his journey up to Jerusalem.” Today we hear of the final part of his journey to the holy city. He is riding a colt and greeted by “the whole multitude of his disciples” who praise God, “for all the mighty deeds they have seen.” This is a climactic moment for Jesus and his disciples. Their journey to Jerusalem is ending and another is about to begin—the excited disciples have no clue what is about to happen. We have arrived at a climactic moment. With Jesus and his disciples, we are entering Holy Week. Jesus enters the city from the East, from the same direction as the rising sun. A new day is beginning. Old ways are being put aside. Darkness is overcome. On this new day, death is no longer the end of life; success is no longer the valid measure of a person or any of our personal projects; power no longer has complete and lasting control over a people; violence no longer is the way to deal with opposition. Today a new day is beginning; today Jesus enters Jerusalem. Today speaks clearly to us: have no doubts, God is not indifferent to human plight; human suffering has not fallen on deaf ears. God has heard our cry for help. Today, Jesus goes up to Jerusalem. In Jesus’ time, going to Jerusalem was an important and joyful event. Devout Jews went to the city to observe important feasts and rituals. Jerusalem had great symbolic power for believers, for the Temple was in Jerusalem and it was in and around the Temple that important ceremonies were performed. But the Romans were there too and so the city was a place of convergence, not only of religious power and authority, but also of social, military and economic forces. For many reasons, Jerusalem was the center of the Jewish world. So, Jesus goes to the place where religious and secular powers are concentrated and he goes there at an important festival time, the feast of Passover. Jesus and his disciples knew how dangerous this fateful journey would be. Neither the religious nor the military powers in the city could ignore Jesus’ presence. His theological position, about God’s compassion for sinners and inclusion of outcasts, was too upsetting to the status quo the religious leadership was trying to maintain. There were many diverse opinions and movements in Jewish tradition, but Jesus’ teachings about God’s reign had gone too far for most of the religious establishment. And in going to a seat of Roman power, Jesus was confronting the world’s might in all its oppressive and cruel manifestations. Once Jesus enters Jerusalem the powers in charge move quickly, he is promptly captured, sentenced and nailed to the cross. Why go up to Jerusalem at all? Why not “lay low” and stay out of trouble? Or continue preaching—but from a safe distance. By his entering Jerusalem Jesus challenges our accommodation to all kinds of power—our “modern Jerusalems,”—our misplaced respect for: powerful government; religious status; middle class values; physical and intellectual achievement; economic success, etc. We could just fall back on our baptism, say our prayers and hope for our resurrection. But Jesus entered Jerusalem and he challenges each of us to confront our contemporary Jerusalems. Where do we bow to power; who and what rule our lives? What concessions have we made and how do we evade the challenges our belief in the gospel require us to face? Jesus confronts all that Jerusalem represents and he seems to lose to the reigning power. He submits, doesn’t fight, or hide or try to outwit the powers. He chooses to be there, in Jerusalem, exposed to all the forces against him. It looked like Jesus was a loser; God seemed to have gambled and lost. But Jesus’ submission really was a confrontation with evil: he did not run away; his suffering was God’s way of working through him. Through Jesus’ loss, we are all winners. Each of us believers must join Jesus and go “up to Jerusalem.” Like Jesus, our personal Jerusalem may be a place where we seem to be losers: where our faith values are disregarded or trashed; where we face daily encounters with forces that oppose our best efforts; where political structures defeat the disenfranchised; where the world of high tech and privileged education broaden the gap between the haves and the have-nots. We are called to be present to our own experience of Jerusalem and there we are invited to take up the cross and risk what previously we have cherished and clung to. But first, before we straighten our shoulders and prepare for the struggle we must let Jesus go ahead of us. We follow him into the city this week; watch how he surrenders to God’s ways and identify with his loss. But, through his death and resurrection we also experience new life. Why are we waving our palms for today? Not because everything goes well in our world; not because there is no suffering—not while there are ongoing wars, civil strife, AIDS throughout the world, terrorism, drugs and on and on! We are not waving our palms in ecstatic religious display with our eyes closed to reality. No, there is too much suffering in the world for that; the good, the poor and the vulnerable are not spared suffering. Jesus reminds us of that today. Rather, God has entered our “holy city”—the places of defeats and pain and transformed them. God has personally confronted evil, walked the same path we have. But not in the triumphal way we might have, instead God has contradicted our usual ways of dealing with evil might and chosen instead the cross—as Paul says, a way that our world judges as foolishness and a scandal. Because Jesus chose to enter the Holy City, every place we suffer can become a holy city for us, a place God chooses to visit and share with us—most especially those places where, like Jesus, we choose to confront religious hypocrisy and worldly powers. We know what the excited crowds at the entrance to the city don’t know. At this point they smell triumph in the air; they expect a victorious Jesus to sweep into power and they with him. In Jerusalem their plans would collapse, their hopes would be dashed. We know what they didn’t and couldn’t know at this stage of their journey with Jesus: that early on the morning of the third day, the first day of the week, while it was still dark, God would show God’s power and raise Jesus from the tomb. The powers of death would be overcome. Triumph would come from catastrophe; life from death; hope from despair and despite all appearances to the contrary–then and now—evil would be defeated. Now, no matter how powerful the forces against good are, we do have reason to hope. That is why we are waving our palms in the air. That is why, with Jesus and the rest of his disciples, we are entering Jerusalem today.

Justice Bulletin Board by Barbara Molinari Quinby, MPS, Director Office of Human Life, Dignity, and Justice Ministries Holy Name of Jesus Cathedral, Raleigh, NC

He humbled himself—Philippians 2:8

On this Palm Sunday, let us meditate on Jesus in his humanity and the love he shed for us. The following poem was written by peace activist, Joshua “Jojo” White, when he was eleven years old. “Joshua” is the Hebrew name for Jesus, and I can hear a very human little boy named Jesus speaking its words.

If I could change the world I’d dismantle all the bombs
If I could change the world I’d feed all the hungry
If I could change the world I would shelter all the homeless
If I could change the world I would make all people free
I cannot dismantle all the bombs
I cannot feed all the hungry
I cannot shelter all the homeless
I cannot make all people free
I cannot because there is only one of me.
When I have grown and I am strong
I will find many more of me.
We will dismantle all the bombs
We will feed the hungry
We will shelter all the homeless
We will make all the people free.
We will change the world.
Me and my friends
altogether, together at last.

Are you a friend of Jesus? Will you help change the world?

LENTEN POETRY COMPANION WEEK 6: AN INVITATION TO SURRENDER TO GRACE

SUNDAY — Salvator Mundi: Via Crucis by Denise Levertov
Maybe He looked indeed
much as Rembrandt envisioned Him
in those small heads that seem in fact
portraits of more than a model.
A dark, still young, very intelligent face,
a soul-mirror gaze of deep understanding, unjudging.
That face, in extremis, would have clenched its teeth
in a grimace not shown in even the great crucifixions.
The burden of humanness (I begin to see) exacted from Him
that He taste also the humiliation of dread,
cold sweat of wanting to let the whole thing go,
like any mortal hero out of his depth,
like anyone who has taken a step too far
and wants herself back.
The painters, even the greatest, don’t show how,
in the midnight Garden,
or staggering uphill under the weight of the Cross,
He went through with even the human longing
to simply cease, to not be.
Not torture of body,
not the hideous betrayals humans commit
nor the faithless weakness of friends, and surely
not the anticipation of death (not then, in agony’s grip)
was Incarnation’s heaviest weight,
but this sickened desire to renege,
to step back from what He, Who was God,
had promised Himself, and had entered
time and flesh to enact.
Sublime acceptance, to be absolute, had to have welled
up from those depths where purpose
drifted for mortal moments.
Source: “Salvator Mundi: Via Crucis” from The Stream and the Sapphire, by Denise Levertov. New York: New Directions Publishing, 1997

MONDAY — Exquisite Corpse by Scott Dalgarno
Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. There they made him a supper. —John 12:1-2

Four days dead and sipping soup, Lazarus
Sits up, grunts, asks, “What’s today?” He reeks
Of tomb, but no one blanches at this banquet.
Sister Martha feeds him, wipes his chin, reminding him
Of time and mass and the unforgiving weight of resuscitation.
There’s that late-charge he thought he was clear of,
And the pruning, and that long look a bar-maid
Once gave him, but that’s all in Lazarus’ moldy brain.
The guests merely gape; the vacuum of the tomb
Has sucked every verb from the house, but Mary
Has an idea. She produces a jar of nard, pure, priceless,
And gloppy as death. She smashes it like some Jeremiah,
Peeling the fractured alabaster, lavishing the ooze
On Jesus’ chapped knees and feet. All stand transfixed,
But Lazarus’ eyes are still on Martha’s spoon,
Hovering a bit out of reach. Slowly he searches the room
For an explanation. There’s Mary, as busy as a Martha,
And Martha, nonplussed, her heart churning envy and disgust.
What kind of household is this, Lazarus wonders,
Where the dead are fed and the living embalmed?
Nothing sealed is safe; nothing at rest left undisturbed
By the merciless provocations of the living.
Source: “Exquisite Corpse” by Scott Dalgarno from America Magazine, Vol. 192No. 9 (3/14/2005).

TUESDAY — The Vine by Thomas Merton
When wind and winter turn our vineyard
To a bitter Calvary,
What hands come out and crucify us
Like the innocent vine?
How long will starlight weep as sharp as thorns
In the night of our desolate life?
How long will moonlight fear to free the naked prisoner?
Or is there no deliverer?
A mob of winds, on Holy Thursday, come like murderers
And batter the walls of our locked and terrified souls.
Our doors are down, and our defense is done.
Good Friday’s rains, in Roman order,
March, with sharpest lances, up our vineyard hill.
More dreadful than St. Peter’s cry
When he was being swallowed in the sea,
Cries out our anguish: “O! We are abandoned!”
When in our life we see the ruined vine
Cut open by the cruel spring,
Ploughed by the furious season!
As if we had forgotten how the whips of winter
And the cross of April
Would all be lost in one bright miracle.
For look! The vine on Calvary is bright with branches!
See how the leaves laugh in the light,
And how the whole hill smiles with flowers:
And know how all our numbered veins must run
With life, like the sweet vine, when it is full of sun.

WEDNESDAY — O Taste and See by Denise Levertov
The world is
not with us enough
O taste and see
the subway Bible poster said,
meaning The Lord, meaning
if anything all that lives
to the imagination’s tongue,
grief, mercy, language,
tangerine, weather, to
breathe them, bite,
savor, chew, swallow, transform
into our flesh our
deaths, crossing the street, plum, quince,
living in the orchard and being
hungry, and plucking
the fruit.
Source: “O Taste and See” from O Taste and See by Denise Levertov. New must be a part of the story. York: New Directions, 1964.

HOLY THURSDAY — Gethsemane by Mary Oliver
The grass never sleeps.
Or the rose.
Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning.
Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept.
The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet,
and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body,
and heaven knows if it even sleeps.
Jesus said, wait with me. And maybe the stars did, maybe
the wind wound itself into a silver tree, and didn’t move,
maybe
the lake far away, where once he walked as on a
blue pavement,
lay still and waited, wild awake.
Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut, that could not
keep that vigil, how they must have wept,
so utterly human, knowing this too
Source: “Gethsemane” from Thirst, by Mary Oliver. Boston: Beacon Press, 2006.

GOOD FRIDAY — The Magdalen, a Garden and This by Kathleen O’Toole
She who is known by myth and association
as sinful, penitent, voluptuous perhaps...
but faithful to the last and then beyond.
A disciple for sure, confused often with Mary,
sister of Lazarus, or the woman caught
in adultery, or she who angered the men
by anointing Jesus with expensive oils.
She was the one from whom he cast out seven
demons—she’s named in that account.
Strip all else away and we know only
that she was grateful, that she found her way
to the cross, and that she returned
to the tomb, to the garden nearby, and there,
weeping at her loss, was recognized,
became known in the tender invocation
of her name. Mary: breathed by one
whom she mistook for the gardener, he
who in an instant brought her back to herself—
gave her in two syllables a life beloved,
gave me the only sure thing I’ll believe
of heaven, that if it be, it will consist
in this: the one unmistakable
rendering of your name.
Source: “The Magdalen, a Garden and This” by Kathleen O’Toole from America Magazine Vol. 186 No. 11 (4/1/2002).

SATURDAY — Simon Peter by John Poch
There are three things which are too wonderful for me,
Yes, four which I do not understand.
The way of an eagle in the air,
The way of a serpent on a rock,
The way of a ship in the heart of the sea,
And the way of a man with a maid
—Prov. 30:18, 19
I
Contagious as a yawn, denial poured
over me like a soft fall fog, a girl
on a carnation strewn parade float, waving
at everyone and no one, boring and bored
There actually was a robed commotion parading.
I turned and turned away and turned. A swirl
of wind pulled back my hood, a fire of coal
brightened my face, and those around me whispered:
You’re one of them, aren’t you? You smell like fish.
And wine, someone else joked. That’s brutal. That’s cold,
I said, and then they knew me by my speech.
They let me stay and we told jokes like fishermen
and houseboys. We gossiped till the cock crowed,
his head a small volcano raised to mock stone.
II
Who could believe a woman’s word, perfumed
in death? I did. I ran and was outrun
before I reached the empty tomb. I stepped
inside an empty shining shell of a room,
sans pearl. I walked back home alone and wept
again. At dinner. His face shone like the sun.
I went out into the night. I was a sailor
and my father’s nets were calling. It was high tide,
I brought the others. Nothing, the emptiness
of business, the hypnotic waves of failure.
But a voice from shore, a familiar fire, and the nets
were full. I wouldn’t be outswum, denied
this time. The coal-fire before me, the netted fish
behind. I’m carried where I will not wish.
Source: “Simon Peter” by John Poch from America Magazine, Vol. 188 No. 7

EASTER SUNDAY
The Answer by R.S. Thomas
Not darkness but twilight
In which even the best
of minds must make its way
now. And slowly the questions
occur, vague but formidable
for all that. We pass our hands
over their surface like blind
men feeling for the mechanism
that will swing them aside. They
yield, but only to re-form
as new problems; and one
does not even do that
but towers immovable
before us.
Is there no way
of other thought of answering
its challenge? There is an anticipation
of it to the point of
dying. There have been times
when, after long on my knees
in a cold chancel, a stone has rolled
from my mind, and I have looked
in and seen the old questions lie
folded and in a place
by themselves, like the piled
graveclothes of love’s risen body.
Easter: An Invitation to Resurrect Hope
Source: “The Answer” from Frequencies by R.S. Thomas. London: Macmillian, 1979.

A Better Resurrection by Christina Rossetti
I have no wit, no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numb’d too much for hopes or fears;
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
I lift mine eyes, but dimm’d with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is in the falling leaf:
O Jesus, quicken me.
My life is like a faded leaf,
My harvest dwindled to a husk:
Truly my life is void and brief
And tedious in the barren dusk;
My life is like a frozen thing,
No bud nor greenness can I see:
Yet rise it shall—the sap of Spring;
O Jesus, rise in me.
My life is like a broken bowl,
A broken bowl that cannot hold
One drop of water for my soul
Or cordial in the searching cold;
Cast in the fire the perish’d thing;
Melt and remould it, till it be
A royal cup for Him, my King:
O Jesus, drink of me.
Source: “A Better Resurrection” from Goblin Market and other Poems, by Christina Rossetti. Cambridge: Macmillan, 1862.

PREPARATION FOR THE SESSION

Presence of God: Jesus, As I come to you today, fill my heart, my whole being, with the wonder of your sacred presence. Help me to become more aware of your presence in my life, and more receptive to that presence. I desire to love you as you love me. May nothing ever separate me from you. (1-2 minutes of silence)

Freedom: Jesus, Grant me the grace to have freedom of spirit. Keep me from being bound by desires and actions that are not good for me or others. Cleanse my heart and soul that I may live joyously in your love. (1-2 minutes of silence)

Consciousness: Where am I with God? With others in my life? What am I grateful for? Is there something I am sorry for, words or actions that have hurt others, and which I now regret? I take a moment to ask forgiveness of God and of those whom I have hurt. God, I give you thanks for your constant love and care for me. Keep me always aware of your presence in my life. (2-3 minutes of silence)

OPENING PRAYER

Help me to fix my gaze on you as I hear this gospel.. Help me to walk closely with you and accompany you in your last days on this earth. This has been a long and arduous journey for you, Lord. Did you think things would end up this way? Did life go the way you planned? Help me to face my challenges with courage and help me to remain faithful to your word and believe in your promises. Give me strength for this life’s journey, and give me compassion for those on their own difficult journeys. Be with me, Lord, when I am afraid or weary.

COMPANIONS FOR THE JOURNEY

From Living Space, a service of the Irish Jesuits

Today’s liturgy combines both a sense of triumph and tragedy. Very importantly, we are reminded at the beginning, that we are about to commemorate the triumph of Christ our King. We do this through the blessing of palms, the procession and the joyful singing. And the celebrant wears red vestments. We need to keep this in mind as we proceed, in the Liturgy of the Word, to hear the long tale of the sufferings and indignities to which Jesus was subjected. It is a tale not relieved—yet—by the proper end of the story: the Resurrection to new life. So as we listen to the Passion story unfolding, let us keep in mind the Hosannas as Jesus our King entered Jerusalem, his city. Very soon it will be difficult to recognise our King in the battered, scourged, crowned-with-thorns, crucified remnant of a human being. Why did Jesus have to undergo such a terrible fate? Basically, there were two reasons. The first was political—Jesus had become the object of hate and prejudice by people who saw him as a threat to their religious authority and political standing. He had to be gotten rid of one way or another. But second, what happened was all in accordance with the Father’s will. That is not to say, as some people seem to imply, that God wanted to kill Jesus and engineered everything to happen that way. There are perfectly understandable reasons why Jesus’ behaviour led to his suffering and death. At the same time, this behaviour was the result of Jesus’ unconditional love for every person he met—including his enemies. And Jesus’ love for everyone was a mirror of the same love of the Father. It was an agape-love so intense that Jesus was ready to sacrifice his own life for it: What we see in today’s readings is God using perfectly human situations in order to convey, in dramatic fashion, his relationship to us. And it is only with genuine faith that we are able to see the work of God in the tragic death of Jesus. Today’s readings also tell us that Jesus suffered—and he really did suffer. There are those who tend to minimise the sufferings of Jesus because “after all, he was the Son of God, he had a ‘Divine Nature’.” But this is to deny one of the most central teachings of the New Testament, that Jesus was one hundred percent a human being and, except for sin, shared our human experiences in every way. In fact, as a particularly sensitive human person, it is likely that, when Jesus suffered, his pain was more intense than that of others. Jesus suffered obviously in his body, and he underwent pain that we might associate with the more barbaric forms of torture in our own day. But he must also have suffered psychologically, and this pain may have been even more intense. He saw his mission collapse all around him in total failure. His disciples had all, for the sake of their own skins, taken to their heels. Would anyone remember anything he taught or did? There was, at this special time of need, a terrible loneliness. His disciples fell asleep in the garden when he especially needed their support. They ran off as soon as people came to arrest Jesus. Even the Father seems to be silent—the Father who could send legions of angels to rescue him, but apparently did nothing.  There is the final poignant cry from the cross: My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Yet through it all, Jesus’ dignity, power and authority keep shining through, making his captors seem to be the ones on the defensive. After the prayer in the garden, Jesus stands up to face those arresting him full of an inner strength and authority. He stands in silent dignity before his judges, refusing to be intimidated. In the midst of his own pain and indignities, he can continue to think of the needs of others and can, after his own teaching, pray for and forgive his enemies.

REFLECTION AND DISCUSSION

This iteration of Sunday’s Gospel is divided so that if groups are meeting to meditate on the readings, several readers can participate and take turns. In addition, there are four pieces of music as interludes between every other section; these pauses can also be for quiet meditation of discussion. This also usable for private reflection during Holy Week.

Matthew 26:14-27:66

Reader 1
“Then one of the Twelve, the man called Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and said, “What are you prepared to give me if I hand him over to you?” They paid him thirty silver pieces, and from then onwards he began to look for an opportunity to betray him. Now on the first day of Unleavened Bread the disciples came to Jesus to say, “Where do you want us to make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?” He said, “Go to a certain man in the city and say to him, ‘The Master says: My time is near. It is at your house that I am keeping Passover with my disciples.’” The disciples did what Jesus told them and prepared the Passover. When evening came he was at table with the Twelve. And while they were eating he said, “In truth I tell you, one of you is about to betray me.” They were greatly distressed and started asking him in turn, “Not me, Lord, surely?” He answered, “Someone who has dipped his hand into the dish with me will betray me. The Son of man is going to his fate, as the scriptures say he will, but alas for that man by whom the Son of man is betrayed! Better for that man if he had never been born!” Judas, who was to betray him, asked in his turn, “Not me, Rabbi, surely?”Jesus answered, “It is you who say it.” Now as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had said the blessing he broke it and gave it to the disciples. “Take it and eat,” he said, “this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he handed it to them saying, “Drink from this, all of you, for this is my blood, the blood of the covenant, poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. From now on, I tell you, I shall never again drink wine until the day I drink the new wine with you in the kingdom of my Father.”

Reader 2
After the psalms had been sung they left for the Mount of Olives. 31.Then Jesus said to them, “You will all fall away from me tonight, for the scripture says: I shall strike the shepherd and the sheep of the flock will be scattered, but after my resurrection I shall go ahead of you to Galilee.” At this, Peter said to him, “Even if all fall away from you, I will never fall away.” Jesus answered him,” In truth I tell you, this very night, before the cock crows, you will have disowned me three times.” Peter said to him,” Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.” And all the disciples said the same. Then Jesus came with them to a plot of land called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, “Stay a while I go over there to pray.” He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee with him. And he began to feel sadness and anguish. Then he said to them, “My soul is sorrowful to the point of death. Wait here and stay awake with me.” And going on a little further he fell on his face and prayed. “My Father,” he said, “if it is possible, let this cup pass me by. Nevertheless, let it be as you, not I, would have it.” He came back to the disciples and found them sleeping, and he said to Peter, “So you had not the strength to stay awake with me for one hour? Stay awake, and pray not to be put to the test. The spirit is willing enough, but human nature is weak.” Again, a second time, he went away and prayed: “My Father,” he said, “if this cup cannot pass by, but I must drink it, your will be done!” And he came back again and found them sleeping, their eyes were so heavy. Leaving them there, he went away again and prayed for the third time, repeating the same words. Then he came back to the disciples and said to them, “You can sleep on now and have your rest. Look, the hour has come when the Son of man is to be betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up! Let us go! Look, my betrayer is not far away.” And suddenly while he was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, appeared, and with him a large number of men armed with swords and clubs, sent by the chief priests and elders of the people. Now the traitor had arranged a sign with them saying, “The one I kiss, he is the man. Arrest him.” So he went up to Jesus at once and said, “Greetings, Rabbi,” and kissed him. Jesus said to him, “My friend, do what you are here for.” Then they came forward, seized Jesus and arrested him. And suddenly, one of the followers of Jesus grasped his sword and drew it; he struck the high priest’s servant and cut off his ear. Jesus then said, “Put your sword back, for all who draw the sword will die by the sword. Or do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, who would promptly send more than twelve legions of angels to my defence? But then, how would the scriptures be fulfilled that say this is the way it must be?” It was at this time that Jesus said to the crowds, “Am I a bandit, that you had to set out to capture me with swords and clubs? I sat teaching in the Temple day after day and you never laid a hand on me.” Now all this happened to fulfil the prophecies in scripture.

Music Interlude: “Your Will” by Tony Eiras (hard to find on YouTube, but it is there, and powerful!). Or the following quiet reflection:

Adapted from Rev. William Bausch in Once upon a Gospel: The fact is, the day Jesus entered Jerusalem from the east on a donkey, and Pilate enters from the west on a warhorse, was the day you and I were confronted with a choice: We could choose to enter with Pilate, who represented force, greed and exploitation, or we could choose to enter with Jesus, who represented the kingdom of God which condemns those who exploit others, who use the power of their office or their money to serve their own selfish and sometime dishonest ends, who treat the poor and marginalized as expendable. The results of that confrontation are clear. The question for each of us: which entrance shall I take, whose procession do I follow? Why does treachery from a friend feel worse than hatred from strangers? What is the cause of Jesus “sorrow” in the garden? What are my “Gethsemanies”? Have I ever found it hard to accept God’s will in my life?

Reader 3
Then all the disciples deserted him and ran away. 57.The men who had arrested Jesus led him off to the house of Caiaphas the high priest, where the scribes and the elders were assembled. Peter followed him at a distance right to the high priest’s palace, and he went in and sat down with the attendants to see what the end would be. The chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin were looking for evidence against Jesus, however false, on which they might have him executed. But they could not find any, though several lying witnesses came forward. Eventually two came forward and made a statement, “This man said, ‘I have power to destroy the Temple of God and in three days build it up.’” The high priest then rose and said to him, “Have you no answer to that? What is this evidence these men are bringing against you?” But Jesus was silent. And the high priest said to him, “I put you on oath by the living God to tell us if you are the Christ, the Son of God.” Jesus answered him, “It is you who say it. But, I tell you that from this time onward you will see the Son of man seated at the right hand of the Power and coming on the clouds of heaven.” Then the high priest tore his clothes and said, “He has blasphemed. What need of witnesses have we now? There! You have just heard the blasphemy. What is your opinion?” They answered, “He deserves to die.” Then they spat in his face and hit him with their fists; others said as they struck him, “Prophesy to us, Christ! Who hit you then?” Meanwhile Peter was sitting outside in the courtyard, and a servant-girl came up to him saying, “You, too, were with Jesus the Galilean.” But he denied it in front of them all. “I do not know what you are talking about,” he said. When he went out to the gateway another servant-girl saw him and said to the people there, “This man was with Jesus the Nazarene.” And again, with an oath, he denied it, “I do not know the man.” A little later the bystanders came up and said to Peter, “You are certainly one of them too! Why, your accent gives you away.” Then he started cursing and swearing, “I do not know the man.” And at once the cock crowed, and Peter remembered what Jesus had said, “Before the cock crows you will have disowned me three times.” And he went outside and wept bitterly.

Reader 4
When morning came, all the chief priests and the elders of the people met in council to bring about the death of Jesus. They had him bound and led him away to hand him over to Pilate, the governor. When he found that Jesus had been condemned, then Judas, his betrayer, was filled with remorse and took the thirty silver pieces back to the chief priests and elders saying, “I have sinned. I have betrayed innocent blood.” They replied, “What is that to us? That is your concern.” And flinging down the silver pieces in the sanctuary he made off, and went and hanged himself. The chief priests picked up the silver pieces and said, “It is against the Law to put this into the treasury; it is blood-money.” So they discussed the matter and with it bought the potter’s field as a graveyard for foreigners, and this is why the field is still called the Field of Blood. The word spoken through the prophet Jeremiah was then fulfilled: And they took the thirty silver pieces, the sum at which the precious One was priced by the children of Israel, and they gave them for the potter’s field, just as the Lord directed me. Jesus, then, was brought before the governor, and the governor put to him this question, “Are you the king of the Jews?” Jesus replied, “It is you who say it.” But when he was accused by the chief priests and the elders he refused to answer at all. Pilate then said to him, “Do you not hear how many charges they have made against you?” But to the governor’s amazement, he offered not a word in answer to any of the charges. At festival time it was the governor’s practice to release a prisoner for the people, anyone they chose. Now there was then a notorious prisoner whose name was Barabbas. So when the crowd gathered, Pilate said to them, “Which do you want me to release for you: Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?” For Pilate knew it was out of jealousy that they had handed him over. Now as he was seated in the chair of judgement, his wife sent him a message, “Have nothing to do with that upright man; I have been extremely upset today by a dream that I had about him.” The chief priests and the elders, however, had persuaded the crowd to demand the release of Barabbas and the execution of Jesus. So when the governor spoke and asked them, “Which of the two do you want me to release for you?” they said, “Barabbas.” Pilate said to them, “But in that case, what am I to do with Jesus who is called Christ?” They all said, “Let him be crucified!” He asked, “But what harm has he done?” But they shouted all the louder, “Let him be crucified!” Then Pilate saw that he was making no impression, that in fact a riot was imminent. So he took some water, washed his hands in front of the crowd and said, “I am innocent of this man’s blood. It is your concern.” And the people, every one of them, shouted back, “Let his blood be on us and on our children!” Then he released Barabbas for them.

Music Interlude: “Pie Jesu” by Faure, sung by Kathleen Battle. Or the following quiet reflection:

Remorse can kill or purify. The ability to believe we can be forgiven is central to our Christian belief. This is the basis for the difference between Peter and Judas. Do I really believe that I am truly and completely forgiven by God? Describe the way Jesus handled his interrogation and torture. What qualities of his that he displayed in these instances do you particularly admire? Have you ever been anxious or worried about something and found that your usual support system was somehow lacking?

Reader 1
"After having Jesus scourged he handed him over to be crucified. Then the governor’s soldiers took Jesus with them into the Praetorium and collected the whole cohort round him. And they stripped him and put a scarlet cloak round him, and having twisted some thorns into a crown they put this on his head and placed a reed in his right hand. To make fun of him they knelt to him saying, “Hail, king of the Jews!” And they spat on him and took the reed and struck him on the head with it. And when they had finished making fun of him, they took off the cloak and dressed him in his own clothes and led him away to crucifixion. On their way out, they came across a man from Cyrene, called Simon, and enlisted him to carry his cross. When they had reached a place called Golgotha, that is, the place of the skull, they gave him wine to drink mixed with gall, which he tasted but refused to drink. When they had finished crucifying him they shared out his clothing by casting lots, and then sat down and stayed there keeping guard over him. Above his head was placed the charge against him; it read: “This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.”

Reader 2
Then two bandits were crucified with him, one on the right and one on the left. The passers-by jeered at him; they shook their heads and said, “So you would destroy the Temple and in three days rebuild it! Then save yourself if you are God’s son and come down from the cross!” The chief priests with the scribes and elders mocked him in the same way, with the words, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. He is the king of Israel; let him come down from the cross now, and we will believe in him. He has put his trust in God; now let God rescue him if he wants him. For he did say, ‘I am God’s son.’” Even the bandits who were crucified with him taunted him in the same way.

Music Interlude: “Jesus Remember Me” from Taize Or the following quiet reflection:

Everybody has a cross to carry in this life, whether it is illness, loneliness, anxiety, personal relationships or professional ones. Can you name one of your “crosses?” How can you be more like Jesus as you carry your cross(es)?

Reader 3
From the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour. And about the ninth hour, Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, eli, lama sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” When some of those who stood there heard this, they said, “The man is calling on Elijah,” and one of them quickly ran to get a sponge which he filled with vinegar and, putting it on a reed, gave it him to drink. But the rest of them said, “Wait! And see if Elijah will come to save him.” But Jesus, again crying out in a loud voice, yielded up his spirit. And suddenly, the veil of the Sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom, the earth quaked, the rocks were split, the tombs opened and the bodies of many holy people rose from the dead, and these, after his resurrection, came out of the tombs, entered the holy city and appeared to a number of people. The centurion, together with the others guarding Jesus, had seen the earthquake and all that was taking place, and they were terrified and said, “In truth this man was son of God.” And many women were there, watching from a distance, the same women who had followed Jesus from Galilee and looked after him. Among them were Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of Zebedee’s sons.

Reader 4
When it was evening, there came a rich man of Arimathaea, called Joseph, who had himself become a disciple of Jesus. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then Pilate ordered it to be handed over. So Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean shroud and put it in his own new tomb which he had hewn out of the rock. He then rolled a large stone across the entrance of the tomb and went away. Now Mary of Magdala and the other Mary were there, sitting opposite the sepulchre. Next day, that is, when Preparation Day was over, the chief priests and the Pharisees went in a body to Pilate and said to him, “Your Excellency, we recall that this impostor said, while he was still alive, “After three days I shall rise again.” Therefore give the order to have the sepulchre kept secure until the third day, for fear his disciples come and steal him away and tell the people, “He has risen from the dead.” This last piece of fraud would be worse than what went before.” Pilate said to them, “You may have your guard; go and make all as secure as you know how.” So they went and made the sepulchre secure, putting seals on the stone and mounting a guard.

Music Interlude: “Going Home” by Anton Dvorak, sung by Bryn Terfel, video posted on YouTube by Mushashi Tzu. Or “My God, My God, Why” transeraph. Psalm 22 from the Psalm Project from the album Psalms uplugged) Poweful and poignant. Or the following quiet reflection:

Describe a time in your life when you felt a lack of God’s presence in your personal need. How did you handle it? Can I forgive others truly and freely? What images or incidents in this narrative particularly touch you? How do they relate to your own life and your own understanding of Jesus? What draws me to Jesus?

CLOSING PRAYER

Don’t forget to provide some prayer time at the beginning and at the end of the session (or both), allowing time to offer prayers for anyone you wish to pray for.

This week’s invitation to walk with you Lord, on your last, final journey to the Father, is both comfort and challenge to me. Can I have the strength and steadfastness with which you approached your fate? Can I keep my eyes on the Prize? Can I forgive those who have betrayed and hurt me along the way? Help me trust in myself and in your ultimate goodness as I live my life in your image.

FOR THE WEEK AHEAD

Meditations
A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Memory: The Way of the Cross.
As Jesus appears before Pilate, I remember a time when I experienced being misunderstood, condemned:
As Jesus receives his cross, I recall a time when I received a cross in my life:
As Jesus falls the first time, I remember when I experienced my first failure, my own limits:
As Mary encourages Jesus, I remember someone who encouraged me to follow God’s call; I remember how he or she looked at me:
As Simon helps Jesus carry his cross, I consider who has been there to lift a burden from shoulders, from my heart:
As veronica wipes the face of Jesus, I remember the Veronicas in my life--those who stood by me, comforted me, even at the risk of their own rejection:
As Jesus falls a second time, I recall the times when I have experienced the helplessness of failing, knowing I would fail, again and again:
As the women reach out to comfort Jesus, I remember the faces of those whom I have reached out to comfort, even in my own pain:
As Jesus falls a third time, I recall a time when I felt as if I was totally defeated and could not go on:
As Jesus is stripped of his clothing, I remember the experience of feeling so emotionally naked, so publicly demeaned, so vulnerable before others:
As Jesus is nailed to the cross, I consider the things that bound me, kept me "fastened" to my own sorrow, failures or disappointments:
As I imagine Jesus dying on the cross, I try to recall a time when I loved so unconditionally, so completely, that I gave my all:
As I imagine Mary holding the dead body of her son, I pause and remember those who have held me up in life, nurtured me, and grieved with me:
As Jesus’ body is laid in the tomb, I consider what in my life keeps me entombed, where I most experience death:

—Adapted from Surrender: A Guide for Prayer, by Jacqueline Syrup Bergin and Sister Marie Schwann

Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions: Read the whole of Psalms 22 and 31 while imagining that Jesus is the speaker. What links do you find between those texts and the passion narratives in the Gospels? What impact does this have?

—by Daniel J. Harrington, S.J.

POETIC REFLECTIONS

Read Mary Oliver’s poem Gethsemane. What is the perspective here?

Gethsamane
The grass never sleeps.
Or the roses.
Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning.
Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept.
The cricket has such splendid fringe on his feet, 
and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body, 
and heaven knows if it ever sleeps.
Jesus said, wait with me. And maybe the stars did, maybe 
the wind wound itself into a silver tree, and didn’t move.
By
Maybe the lake far away, where once he walked 
as on a blue pavement, 
lay still and waited, wild awake.
Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut, that could not 
keep that vigil, how they must have wept, 
so utterly human, knowing this too 
must be part of the story.

Read the following poem by W.S. Di Piero . How does it feel to be the betrayer? Have I ever disappointed or betrayed anyone? How did I feel?

Gethsamane
He had nerve enough to follow,
dogging his heels, for what? To learn
a new vocabulary, a prayer,
down there in yellow iris that smelled
like carcass? He came back smiling.
The dog had its day, rolling in meat.
This meat was news: The Word of God
wants what we want, to be unchosen.
He must have made up his mind then
What if he said, I don’t see Him here,
we’ll check later? Instead he gagged
on words, like a mouthful of water
brought from the garden, that blood squirms
from the blossom loads and cracked boughs,
and in the stagnant lake of the heart
the sprouting trunk splits, groans,
spilling wine, the spongy dirt
inhaling any blood that falls,
and I’m falling into the tree
and dogs at lakeside bark at clouds.
Like that. As if his own speech could
infuriate time while he waited
for an act to come upon him
(as joy sometimes happens). The soldiers
(were they his joy?) got impatient.
So finally his bloodless lips
screamed More life! More salt!
before he gave away his kiss.
—from The Restorers

Read this poetic reflection on Peter’s betrayal by Rev. Ed Ingebretzen, S.J.:

In The Book
In the book
is told
the story of Peter---
he who denied
Jesus—
Peter whose extravagant love
bloomed like Sunday breakfast.
Also is told how he cried,
a glory credited to him
as to none other.
Peter cried to know his denial; how
perplexed he was by love, how undone
like a shoelace.
torn by love of him
called Jesus
who loved incomprehensibly,
till it seemed
even the rocks around him sang blessings.
But Jesus told Peter
what his heart had long known:
you are weak and shall be harvested
like a field of wheat
ripe in October.
Around you the weeds and flowers cluster
eager to gather in your strength.
Said Jesus further:
Peter, be cut, sifted
measured out.
Let love be your source and their ground,
In you let them find root.

The Poet Thinks of the Donkey by Mary Oliver
On the outskirts of Jerusalem
the donkey waited.
Not especially brave, or filled with understanding,
he stood and waited.
How horses, turned out into the meadow,
leap with delight!
How doves, released from their cages,
clatter away, splashed with sunlight.
But the donkey, tied to a tree as usual, waited.
Then he let himself be led away.
Then he let the stranger mount.
Never had he seen such crowds!
And I wonder if he at all imagined what was to happen.
Still, he was what he had always been: small, dark, obedient.
I hope, finally, he felt brave.
I hope, finally, he loved the man who rode so lightly upon him,
as he lifted one dusty hoof and stepped, as he had to, forward.

Live Without Thought of Dying by Catherine of Siena
We work so hard to fly
and no matter what heights we reach
our wings get folded near a candle,
at the end,
for nothing can enter God but Himself.
Our souls are some glorious substance of the divine
that no sentry wants to stop.
Live without thought of dying,
for dying is not a truth.
We have swayed on the sky’s limb together,
many years there the same leaves grow.
But then they get that look in their eyes
and bid farewell to what they distained or cherished.
This life He gave the shell, the daily struggles we know,
sit quiet for a minute, dear, feel the wind,
let Light touch you.
ere
Live without thought of dying,
for dying is not a
truth

5th Sunday of Lent

March 22, 2026

We all have the chance for a new life in Christ.

John 11:3-7, 17, 20-27, 33-45 

So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” But when Jesus heard it, he said, “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was. Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead for four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upwards and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.” Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.

REFLECTIONS ON THE GOSPEL

Fr. Brendan McGuire Homily

“I am the resurrection and the life.”

At first pass, this gospel reading presents several parts that are quite difficult to hear, if not confusing. For example, when Jesus first hears of Lazarus being ill, it says that he stays another two days; this is the same Jesus, who with the Centurion’s servant heals him from a distance with not even a second thought: “Go home, your servant is healed.” Why would he not have done this for his own friend? His friend who he was obviously deeply close with. Then he stays an extra two days and he says then that this is so that the glory of God can be known. Some people reflect on this passage and say the reason for that is because God has destined some of us for suffering and some of us for an early death, which is an awful thing to conclude. I am not sure where in that scripture passage they hear this but it is often said of this very passage. This is where God, in a sense, intends us to suffer and through the suffering will shine the glory of God. Not a very comforting thought! There is a deeper way to look at this. It is worth parsing it open so that we can understand what Jesus is saying here. Jesus is saying that he is the resurrection and the life; and that there is nothing to stop that from coming to bear. Suffering and pain is a reality, yes, and does God allow it, yes. That part is the mystery of life, which I think none of us will fully understand until we get to heaven. And that is something that sort of bothers a lot of us. If God is so good, then why does he allow good people to suffer; and the example today is with his friend Lazarus. Why does he allow Lazarus to suffer when he can stop it but he chooses not to for the glory of God? But it is what Jesus does that is important to look at; not at what he does not do! What Jesus does is he shows up. He goes anyway. He goes in the midst of the pain and suffering of Lazarus’ family. And he accompanies them in the middle of all of it. He goes and he shows up. We might say that we can show up but then we do not have the power to heal. We do not have the power to raise up our friends from the dead. We are left with a gap ourselves and that can be frustrating for us. What are we to do? We can show up. That is the very message that we are called to do. We are called to show up and to accompany; and we are called to be there. Until you have suffered and been in a position of pain, we do not quite know what it is like but presence makes the world of difference. Do not underestimate how hard it is to be present to somebody who is suffering. Because when you show up, the first thing you want to do is to take away the pain; take away the suffering because that is what we try to do. We try to solve things but there are times when we cannot do that. There are times when we are helpless and therein lies our role, to still show up; to still be present to those suffering. It sounds so easy but let me tell you it is harder than you think because what we have to do first is quiet our own soul. We have to put all our needs aside to be in control in that moment and to put it aside and say “I will just be here. I will be just present to this person in the midst of their pain and suffering.” And that, we can do. And when we do it, it is powerfully healing whether that be for somebody who is just going through a difficult spot in life, maybe through a difficult marriage; or through a painful loss in their own family; or whether they themselves are in fact dying. It is powerful to the point of transformation. Let me give you an example to break this open: You know my, my brother Paul, who I spoke of often last year in that dying process. It was hard to constantly show up to watch him suffer because pancreatic cancer is an awful, awful disease. Absolutely awful disease. And you’ve got to keep showing up because you’ve got to keep accompanying him because he needs somebody to walk with him to the end. I remember it was the last night he lived. My Spiritual Director, Fr. Dave died of pancreatic cancer the night before so I had to break that news to Paul because they made a pact together that whoever died first would come back and get the other one. It was sort of powerful pact. I just didn’t think it was going to happen. But it did really happen. Fr. Dave died on the 29th and Dave came back to take Paul on the 30th that very next day. It was very real. Back when we were at Stanford in the middle of the COVID protocols and all the nurses asked the family to leave but because I was wearing my clerical clothes, I called the chaplain card and got to stay. I said, “Oh, I’m the Chaplain. I need to stay as a minister.” I didn’t say I was also related but that didn’t matter. Paul leaned in as best he could and said, “You know, I am ready to go. I’ve done what I can. Will you just hold my hand?” So, I did! For nearly 7 hours, I held his hand and that was his last night. Showing up. Accompanying somebody. Beautiful but painful. Healing and transformative. Death and resurrection. What can we do to live this gospel? We can show up. We can show up when somebody is suffering whether it be physical or emotional or mental; or whether they are in fact are dying themselves. We can be there and accompany them and assure them of our love by our presence and by our silence; but also that we believe that God’s silence can be trusted because Jesus is the resurrection and new life. And that in the end, we will be joined together in the heavenly kingdom. We will be together again. We give them the assurance that the resurrection is real and we’ll give them the courage to take that last step into eternal life, which we will all need. So, what can we do? We can show up and accompany them for he is the resurrection and the new life.

Commentary on John 11:1-45 by Karoline Lewis

It is significant that the story of Lazarus, unique to the Gospel of John, is the Gospel reading for the last Sunday in Lent, the Sunday immediately preceding Palm/Passion Sunday. For the Synoptic Gospels, the cleansing of the temple is the impetus for the plot to kill Jesus (Mark 11:18; Luke 19:47-48). In the Gospel of John, the temple scene is moved to the beginning of the Gospel, immediately following the Wedding at Cana, and it is the raising of Lazarus to life that incites the plot for Jesus’ arrest and death (11:53, 57). In John 11:46-57, the chief priests and the Pharisees are told what Jesus did and “from that day on they planned to put him to death.” Moreover, the chief priests want to get rid of the evidence as well, and plan to put Lazarus to death “since it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus” (12:9-11). It is Jesus’ very claim, “I am the resurrection and the life” (11:25) that provokes his death in the Fourth Gospel. The repercussions of the raising of Lazarus are not included in the lectionary reading, or any time in the three-year lectionary cycle (12:1-11 only on Holy Monday), and should either be read or referenced in preaching on this text. The raising of Lazarus is the last of Jesus’ “signs” in the Gospel of John. Chapter 12 functions as a bridge chapter before the narrative halts in time for Jesus’ last meal and words to his disciples (chapters 13-17). The actual raising of Lazarus is narrated in only two verses (11:43-44). The events, discussion, and details prior to the main event receive the bulk of the narrative space. Previously in the Gospel, Jesus performs a sign, which is typically followed by dialogue and a discourse by Jesus that interprets the sign (5:1-47; 9:1-10:21). Why does Jesus comment on the sign before actually raising Lazarus from the dead? On one level, it seems that what precedes the miracle is just as important. In other words, Jesus’ interpretation of the meaning of the sign is perhaps as, or more, critical than the sign itself. Why is the structure changed for this last sign and what does it suggest for the preaching on the raising of Lazarus? How do these details in the story leading up to Lazarus finally walking out of the tomb contribute to our understanding of the meaning of this sign? This is not to say that the raising of Lazarus is not important. The narrative elements that set up Lazarus coming out of the tomb are significant. They contribute both to the narrative suspense and to the extraordinary final scene of Lazarus, dead man walking. We are told that the tomb was a cave and that there was a stone against it. Lazarus has been dead four days (see also 11:17). Since Jewish belief held that the soul left the body after three days, just in case we are wondering, Lazarus is really dead. And, he is going to smell. Jesus then pauses to pray and this prayer is more than demonstrative. Note what Jesus highlights in his prayer–hearing (11:41-42). Jesus thanks God for hearing him, and how is Lazarus raised? By hearing Jesus. Like the sheep that recognize the voice of the shepherd who calls them by name (10:3), Lazarus hears his name being called, he recognizes the voice of the shepherd, and the dead man comes out, because only the shepherd can lead his sheep out. Again we should ask, why does Jesus need to talk about the raising of Lazarus prior to doing it? Is it because that the sign would be easily misunderstood, even by us? When we think about the raising of Lazarus, do we place our focus on “I am the resurrection” and not remember that Jesus also says “I am the life?” Indeed, this is exactly what Martha thinks. Notice her dialogue with Jesus in 11:21-27. When Jesus says to her, “your brother will rise again,” she hears only the promise of a future resurrection, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day” (11:24). And Jesus seems to correct this misunderstanding, “I am the resurrection and the life.” But Jesus, we might ask, what is the difference? In fact, this is a question that has puzzled others as well. Other ancient manuscripts omit “and the life,” with the assumption that this phrase is a redundancy on the part of Jesus. Our first impressions may be the same. We tend to focus on the resurrection that we situate for ourselves as a distant promise, our guarantee of salvation, our eternal life with God and Jesus in heaven. But what might it mean that Jesus is the resurrection and the life? That we are raised to life, not as future salvific existence, but to life right now, right here, with Jesus? For Lazarus, the Gospel does not describe his future with Jesus, but his present. In chapter 12, the anointing of Jesus takes place at the home of Mary and Martha in Bethany. We are told that Martha served, Mary anoints Jesus, and Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised from the dead (12:1, 9, 17) “was one of those at the table with him.” The raising of Lazarus also gives him new life with Jesus. This new life is leaning on the breast of Jesus (13:23), reclining at the table with him, sharing food and fellowship (13:28). New life in Jesus is this intimacy, this closeness, this dwelling, lying on the chest of Jesus. It is here and now, because for the Gospel of John, it is not just the death of Jesus but the life of Jesus that brings about salvation. For the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, through which “we have all received grace upon grace” (1:16).

First Impressions by Jude Siciliano, OP

Ezekiel 37: 12-14; Romans 8: 8-11; John 11: 1-45

God is standing outside the tomb--- this is the strong image that touches me in today’s readings. The tomb – our last stop on our journey to God. And what a terrible stopping-off-place it is! At American cemeteries the undertakers and grave diggers do their jobs well. The hole is dug, the excavated soil placed off to the side and the area surrounding the grave is covered with artificial green turf. (It looks like the astro-turf of indoor football stadiums.) Over the grave is a metal framed contraption and thick straps are hung from it to support the coffin. Family and friends remain in their cars until the workers ready the site with flowers. If the weather is foul, there is an awning to protect the mourners and the casket from rain or snow. When all is neatly arranged the mourners are invited to come to the grave site. The coffin is suspended over the grave, supported by that frame and straps. The grave diggers take their break off to the side, some grabbing a smoke during their idle moments. Soon they will be needed again but not till after everyone has left. The final prayers are said, each mourner takes a flower from the nearby floral arrangements, bids farewell to the deceased and places it on the coffin before they leave. But no matter how antiseptic the grave site and how orderly the process, we know what we are looking at – it’s a grave to which we are assigning one we have loved, perhaps all of our lives. Those nearby grave diggers will soon be placing our loved one into the earth and we will see them no more. Of course, I know I am describing American first-world funeral practices. In the poorest lands the body is wrapped in a simple cloth or placed in a wooden coffin made by a family member, a grave is scratched out of rocky soil by friends, and perhaps a flower or two is left on the earth that has been scrapped back into the grave. But in our culture, most of us leave before we get to see the casket lowered into the earth. We can’t watch the final triumph of the grave as it claims our beloved dead. We also have our ways of camouflaging death with cosmetics and euphemisms. But no matter where and how we bury the dead, the grave finds us at our most vulnerable and seems to have its triumphant moments over us. Hold this burial scene, the one you are most familiar with, in your imagination. Then look at the scriptures for today and see the graves in the first and third readings and hear the life-assuring words of the Romans passage. The scriptures assure us we are not alone at our most desolate moments. They don’t avoid recognizing our pain and voicing our questions and even our disappointment in God. “If you had only been here....” But while they acknowledge our grief and feelings of impotency, as we stare at death’s handiwork, the grave – they also tell us something unimaginable. The scriptures say that, in our most vulnerable moments, God stands with us at the grave and makes a promise of life that seems to mock the evidence before us. Death, by all logical conclusions, has defeated us. But God says, “NO!!!!”–in capital letters with a few exclamation points. As Ezekiel puts it, “Then you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves and have you rise from them, O my people!” (Check out the text, it has an exclamation point and should have a few more to emphasize the impact of those words!) Only God can speak with such authority and certainty, for we are in no place to make such a promise on our own. Ezekiel is not writing to console a family or a few friends over the death of a loved one. Ezekiel is writing for an entire people over the death of their nation and the destruction of their religious holy places. The prophet is speaking to the Jewish exiles in Babylon who have seen their beloved Jerusalem destroyed and their Temple desecrated. (587 B.C.E.) Using the vivid dead-bones vision (37: 1-10) Ezekiel evokes the hope that God can raise these people, these “dry bones,” by means of God’s Spirit and Word. The prophet is God’s instrument for proclaiming this promise. Ezekiel’s vision isn’t addressing a final resurrection, but today’s reading suggests God will raise up the people who feel cut off, not only from their homeland, but also from God, as they languish in foreign captivity. Can God do the impossible and restore Israel, take the people home to Jerusalem and help them rebuild the Temple? Yes—God is that powerful, promises Ezekiel. “I will put my spirit in you that you may live, and I will settle you upon your land.” Hearing Ezekiel address the people we wonder: can people leaving a loved one behind for burial rebuild their lives? Can a family hold together as a family when its mother or father dies young? When a sibling is tragically killed in a random act of violence or an overdose? When a war causes civilian upheaval and displacement? Death has so many co-workers dealing out death in so many forms. What will happen to the survivors? Hear what God has to say: “I will settle you upon you land; thus, you will know that I am God.” Let’s see how else the promise is made and to whom. We turn to the gospel. The story gets more personal in the gospel for in it we get: a sick person who dies, a reprimand, an expression of faith in the impossible, weeping, disbelief, seeing the impossible and then coming to belief. In addition, Jesus will have to pay personally and dearly for this miracle, for it will intensify opposition to him and begin the scheming that leads to his own grave. While God doesn’t stand helplessly by Lazarus’ grave; this miracle of life will cost God dearly as well. Lazarus is Jesus’ friend and as we hear this story we are encouraged to believe that we are friends as well. As Jesus said earlier in John, “...an hour is coming in which all those in their tombs shall hear his [the Son of Man’s] voice and come forth.” (5: 28) We friends of Jesus trust these words as we stand by the open graves of so many loved ones and anticipate that a similar grave awaits us as well. Jesus is very much in charge here. No one can rush him, not even the urgent pleas of the dying Lazarus’ sisters. He risks the appearance of not being their true friend, of seeming unconcerned. Why does he wait so long? (And why are we also left with questions and doubts when a word from him could raise us from our death beds?) One thing is for sure--- after the delay we know Lazarus is really dead! Practical Martha names the reality, “Lord, by now there will be a stench, he has been dead four days.” What a scene; the dead man emerging from the dark, dank tomb with his burial cloths dangling from his resuscitated body! Soon Jesus will suffer a violent death. They will also wrap him, as was their custom, in burial cloths and place him in a tomb. Another group of family and friends will stand by yet one more grave and peer into its coldness. They too will feel helpless as they huddle to comfort one another. But all is not totally lost. God will visit this grave and speak a word of life over Jesus and God’s Spirit will raise him up to a completely new life. Who could have imagined? With his resurrection all of us who suffer death will be given the gift of hope and respond, “We too will rise.” As we interpret this passage, note this about John’s gospel. For John, the life God promises in Jesus is already present to the baptized. Our new life does not begin after we have breathed our last breath or when our bodies are surrendered to the grave—it begins now. To call upon another verse from John, “I solemnly assure you, an hour is coming, has indeed come, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who have heeded it shall live. (5:25) We have new life in us even as we stare at the many grave sites in the course of our lives. There are the deaths of family and friends, of course. But we also face death if we; lose our jobs; flunk out of college; get a crippling disease; lose our physical or mental strengths in old age; give up plans of being married and having children; have our last child go off to school or get married; etc. Is new life possible beyond these and other graves? In this life? The believer, hearing today’s scriptures, is encouraged to believe that God has not abandoned us at our graves and will call out our names, utter a life-giving Word and breathe into us a resurrecting Spirit. “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he/she dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believers in me will never die. Do you believe this?” And we respond with Martha, “Yes, Lord, I have come to believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.”

Justice Bulletin Board by Barbara Molinari Quinby, MPS, Director Office of Human Life, Dignity, and Justice Ministries Holy Name of Jesus Cathedral, Raleigh, NC

I will put my spirit in you that you may live… -Ezekiel 37:14

I recently re-read the following from Pope Benedict XVI and quoted by Pope Francis in his encyclical letter, Laudato Si: “The external deserts in the world are growing, because the internal deserts have become so vast” (217). Pope Francis uses the quote to call for a profound interior conversion regarding the environment, but I wonder if the metaphor does not also call us to a profound interior awareness that God’s spirit resides in each of us. What does that mean to my life if I take Ezekiel’s words (37:14) to heart? If the spirit of love, humility, merciful forgiveness, peace, and joy became truly manifest through everyone into our world, would not the dryness of the world disappear? There is no doubt that Pope Francis saw everything as connected. Mahatma Gandhi also believed in this inward-outward connection: “We but mirror the world. All the tendencies present in the outer world are to be found in the world of our body. If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. This is the divine mystery supreme. A wonderful thing it is and the source of our happiness. We need not wait to see what others do.” Lent is the time for introspection through prayer, fasting and almsgiving. But if all we do is go through the motions of unexamined prayer, required fasting, and dutiful almsgiving, we will not experience the interior, life-altering conversion that these wise men extol. Lent is a journey. Where are we going if not to our innermost being? If you find this journey difficult to begin, I offer this suggestion. What has God placed on your heart as something that needs your attention? What plight in the world speaks to you? Take a look at the works of mercy ministries listed on the Cathedral webpage and see if any of them could be a place to start. Almsgiving traditionally means giving money but giving time and talent and walking with people who are other than you opens “new lenses of thoughts and emotions” as Gandhi states. God changed the trajectory of my life when I opened myself to the situation of so many people who lack decent, affordable housing. Not only did my worldview change but so did my interior life. I wish this for you, also, my fellow travelers.

LENTEN POETRY COMPANION WEEK 5: AN INVITATION TO LIVE IN FAITH

SUNDAY — And If I Did, What Then? by George Gascoigne
“And if I did, what then?
Are you aggriev’d therefore?
The sea hath fish for every man,
And what would you have more?”
Thus did my mistress once,
Amaze my mind with doubt;
And popp’d a question for the nonce
To beat my brains about.
Whereto I thus replied:
“Each fisherman can wish
That all the seas at every tide
Were his alone to fish.
“And so did I (in vain)
But since it may not be,
Let such fish there as find the gain,
And leave the loss for me.
“And with such luck and loss
I will content myself,
Till tides of turning time may toss
Such fishers on the shelf.
“And when they stick on sands,
That every man may see,
Then will I laugh and clap my hands,
As they do now at me.”
Source: “And If I Did, What Then?” from The Wadsworth Anthology of Poetry by Jay Parini. Boston: Thomson Wadsworth, 2006.

MONDAY — Annunciation by Denise Levertov
‘Hail, space for the uncontained God’ From the Agathistos Hymn,
Greece, VI
We know the scene: the room, variously furnished,
almost always a lectern, a book;
always the tall lily.
Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings,
the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,
whom she acknowledges, a guest.
But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions
courage.
The engendering Spirit
did not enter her without consent.
God waited.
She was free
to accept or to refuse, choice
integral to humanness.
Aren’t there annunciations
of one sort or another
in most lives?
Some unwillingly
undertake great destinies,
enact them in sullen pride,
uncomprehending.
More often
those moments
when roads of light and storm
open from darkness in a man or woman,
are turned away from
in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair
and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.
God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.
She had been a child who played, ate, slept
like any other child – but unlike others,
wept only for pity, laughed
in joy not triumph.
Compassion and intelligence
fused in her, indivisible.
Called to a destiny more momentous
than any in all of Time,
she did not quail,
only asked
a simple, ‘How can this be?’
and gravely, courteously,
took to heart the angel’s reply,
perceiving instantly
the astounding ministry she was offered:
to bear in her womb
Infinite weight and lightness; to carry in hidden, finite inwardness,
nine months of Eternity; to contain
in slender vase of being,
the sum of power –
in narrow flesh,
the sum of light.
Then bring to birth,
push out into air, a Man-child
needing, like any other,
milk and love –
but who was God.
Source: “Annunciation” from The Stream and the Sapphire, by Denise Levertov. New York: New Directions Publishing, 1997.

TUESDAY — The Ledge of Light by Jessica Powers
I have climbed up out of a narrow darkness
on to a ledge of light.
I am of God; I was not made for night.
Here there is room to lift my arms and sing.
Oh, God is vast! With Him all space can come
to hole or corner or cubiculum.
Though once I prayed, “O closed Hand holding me…”
I know Love, not a vise. I see aright,
set free in morning on this ledge of light.
Yet not all truth I see. Since I am not
yet one of God’s partakers,
I visualize Him now: a thousand acres.
God is a thousand acres to me now
of high sweet-smelling April and the flow
of windy light across a wide plateau.
Ah, but when love grows unitive I know
joy will upsoar, my heart sing, far more free,
having come home to God’s infinity.
Source: “The Ledge of Light” from The Selected Poetry of Jessica Powers, edited by Regina Siegfried and Robert F. Morneau. Kansas City, MO: Sheed & Ward, 1989.

WEDNESDAY — Psalm 25:6–10
Show me your ways, O Lord,
teach me your paths;
guide me in your truth and teach me,
for you are God my Savior,
and my hope is in you all day long.
Remember, O Lord, your great mercy and love,
for they are from of old.
Remember not the sins of my youth
and my rebellious ways;
according to your love remember me,
for you are good, O Lord.

THURSDAY — Messenger by Mary Oliver
My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird –
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.
Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,
which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
And these body-clothes,
A mouth with which to give shouts of joy
To the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
Telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.
Source: “Messenger” from Thirst, by Mary Oliver. Boston: Beacon Press, 2006.

FRIDAY — The Observer by Rainer Maria Rilke
I can tell a storm by the way the trees
are whipping, compared to when quiet,
against my trembling windows, and
I hear from afar things whispering
I couldn’t bear hearing without a friend
or love without a sister close by.
There moves the storm, the transforming one,
and runs through the woods and through the age,
changing it all to look ageless and young:
the landscape appears like the verse of a psalm,
so earnest, eternal, and strong.
How small is what we contend with and fight;
how great what contends with us;
if only we mirrored the moves of the things
and acquiesced to the force of the storm,
we, too, could be ageless and strong.
For what we can conquer is only the small,
and winning itself turns us into dwarfs;
but the everlasting and truly important
will never be conquered by us.
It is the angel who made himself known
to the wrestlers of the Old Testament:
for whenever he saw his opponents propose
to test their iron-clad muscle strength,
he touched them like strings of an instrument
and played their low-sounding chords.
Whoever submits to this angel,
whoever refuses to fight the fight,
comes out walking straight and great and upright,
and the hand once rigid and hard
shapes around as a gently curved guard.
No longer is winning a tempting bait.
One’s progress is to be conquered, instead,
by the ever mightier one.
Source: “The Observer” from Pictures of God; Rilke’s Religious Poetry, translated by Annemarie Kidder. Livonia, MI: First Page Publications, 2005.

SATURDAY — The Avowal by Denise Levertov
As swimmers dare
to lie face to the sky
and water bears them,
as hawks rest upon air
and air sustains them,
so would I learn to attain
freefall, and float
into Creator Spirit’s deep embrace,
knowing no effort earns
that all-surrounding grace.
Source: “The Avowal” from The Stream and the Sapphire, by Denise Levertov. New York: New Directions Publishing, 1997.

PREPARATION FOR THE SESSION

Adapted from Sacred Space: The Prayer Book 2025

Presence of God: Jesus, As I come to you today, fill my heart, my whole being, with the wonder of your sacred presence. Help me to become more aware of your presence in my life, and more receptive to that presence. I desire to love you as you love me. May nothing ever separate me from you. ( 1-2 minutes of silence)

Freedom: Jesus, Grant me the grace to have freedom of spirit. Keep me from being bound by desires and actions that are not good for me or others. Cleanse my heart and soul that I may live joyously in your love. ( 1-2 minutes of silence)

Consciousness: Where am I with God? With others in my life? What am I grateful for? Is there something I am sorry for, words or actions that have hurt others, and which I now regret? I take a moment to ask forgiveness of God and of those whom I have hurt. God, I give you thanks for your constant love and care for me. Keep me always aware of your presence in my life. (2-3 minutes of silence)

OPENING PRAYER

I know what you want from me, Lord: perfect trust in your goodness. But it is hard, Lord, when so many people and institutions, in one way or another, have let me down in the past. When I am entombed in hopelessness, grant that I may hear. Your voice calling me back to you. Teach me, through scriptures like these, to let go of my fears and apprehensions and learn to rely on your goodness and care.

COMPANIONS FOR THE JOURNEY

A little exegesis: Belief in the resurrection of the dead was introduced to the Jewish tradition in the book of Daniel. This belief was espoused by the Pharisees, but not the Sadducees. However, the belief in life after death was widely accepted by the common people of Jesus time (Father Raymond Brown. S.S.)

From “First Impressions”, a service of the Southern Dominican Province: God is standing outside the tomb—this is the strong image that touches me in today’s readings. The tomb—our last stop on our journey to God. And what a terrible stopping-off-place it is! At American cemeteries the undertakers and grave diggers do their jobs well. The hole is dug, the excavated soil placed off to the side and the area surrounding the grave is covered with artificial green turf. (It looks like the astro-turf of indoor football stadiums.) Over the grave is a metal framed contraption and thick straps are hung from it to support the coffin. Family and friends remain in their cars until the workers ready the site with flowers. If the weather is foul, there is an awning to protect the mourners and the casket from rain or snow. When all is neatly arranged the mourners are invited to come to the grave site. The coffin is suspended over the grave, supported by that frame and straps. The grave diggers take their break off to the side, some grabbing a smoke during their idle moments. Soon they will be needed again, but not till after everyone has left. The final prayers are said, each mourner takes a flower from the nearby floral arrangements, bids farewell to the deceased and places it on the coffin before they leave. But no matter how antiseptic the grave site and how orderly the process, we know what we are looking at—it’s a grave to which we are assigning one we have loved, perhaps all of our lives. Those nearby grave diggers will soon be placing our loved one into the earth and we will see them no more. Of course, I know I describing American first-world funeral practices. In the poorest lands the body is wrapped in a simple cloth or placed in a wooden coffin made by a family member, a grave is scratched out of rocky soil by friends, and perhaps a flower or two is left on the earth that has been scrapped back into the grave. But in our culture, most of us leave before we get to see the casket lowered into the earth. We can’t watch the final triumph of the grave as it claims our beloved dead. We also have our ways of camouflaging death with cosmetics and euphemisms. But no matter where and how we bury the dead, the grave finds us at our most vulnerable and seems to have its triumphant moments over us. Death has so many co-workers dealing out death in so many forms. What will happen to the survivors? Hear what God has to say: “I will settle you upon your land; thus you will know that I am God.” Let’s see how else the promise is made and to whom. We turn to the gospel. The story gets more personal in the gospel for in it we get: a sick person who dies, a reprimand, an expression of faith in the impossible, weeping, disbelief, seeing the impossible and then coming to belief. In addition, Jesus will have to pay personally and dearly for this miracle, for it will intensify opposition to him and begin the scheming that leads to his own grave. While God doesn’t stand helplessly by Lazarus’ grave; this miracle of life will cost God dearly as well. Lazarus is Jesus’ friend and as we hear this story we are encouraged to believe that we are friends as well. As Jesus said earlier in John, “...an hour is coming in which all those in their tombs shall hear his [the Son of Man’s] voice and come forth.” (5:28) We friends of Jesus trust these words as we stand by the open graves of so many loved ones and anticipate that a similar grave awaits us as well. Jesus is very much in charge here. No one can rush him, not even the urgent pleas of the dying Lazarus’ sisters. He risks the appearance of not being their true friend, of seeming unconcerned. Why does he wait so long? (And why are we also left with questions and doubts when a word from him could raise us from our death beds?) One thing is for sure--- after the delay we know Lazarus is really dead! Practical Martha names the reality, “Lord, by now there will be a stench, he has been dead four days.” What a scene; the dead man emerging from the dark, dank tomb with his burial cloths dangling from his resuscitated body! Soon Jesus will suffer a violent death. They will also wrap him, as was their custom, in burial cloths and place him in a tomb. Another group of family and friends will stand by yet one more grave and peer into its coldness. They too will feel helpless as they huddle to comfort one another. But all is not totally lost. God will visit this grave and speak a word of life over Jesus and God’s Spirit will raise him up to a completely new life. Who could have imagined? With his resurrection all of us who suffer death will be given the gift of hope and respond, “We too will rise.” As we interpret this passage, note this about John’s gospel. For John, the life God promises in Jesus is already present to the baptized. Our new life does not begin after we have breathed our last breath or when our bodies are surrendered to the grave—it begins now. To call upon another verse from John, “I solemnly assure you, an hour is coming, has indeed come, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who have heeded it shall live. (5:25) We have new life in us even as we stare at the many grave sites in the course of our lives. There are the deaths of family and friends, of course. But we also face death if we; lose our jobs; flunk out of college; get a crippling disease; lose our physical or mental strengths in old age; give up plans of being married and having children; have our last child go off to school or get married; etc. Is new life possible beyond these and other graves? In this life? The believer, hearing today’s scriptures, is encouraged to believe that God has not abandoned us at our graves and will call out our names, utter a life-giving Word and breathe into us a resurrecting Spirit. “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he/she dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believers in me will never die. Do you believe this?” And we respond with Martha, “Yes, Lord, I have come to believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.”

LIVING THE GOOD NEWS

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion? Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions which follow.

Reflection Questions
Lazarus represents all of us, each of whom Jesus loves. Do I feel loved by Jesus?

What does it mean to me that Jesus is the resurrection and the life?

Jesus’ act of raising Lazarus from the death actually speeds his own death. There was a cost. Has there eve ben a cost for you of doing something good?
Did you do it anyway, or was the cost too high?

Which of the characters in the story do you most identify with? Why?

Lack of forgiveness is something that may keep us “stuck” in a sort of death.
Is there someone or something about which I am refusing to offer forgiveness?
Is there anything for which I refuse to forgive myself?

Is there someone who refuses to forgive me?
What sort of “death” has this caused?

What are some of the little "deaths" in our lives? (illness, loss of a job, rejection by a loved one, etc.)

What are some of the "stones" that keep us entombed in a sort of death? (Fear, shame, envy, anger, and sadness are examples)

Walter Burghardt, in his homily on the fifth Sunday of Lent many years ago, said: “Eternal life does not begin with death. It begins now, because through Jesus, God and I are already one.” How do we live out or fail to live out that understanding?

Do we believe that those who have died are linked to us through the communion of saints? Do we have an examples to relate?

Have you ever done something for a friend that caused you severe discomfort or pain? Was it worth it?

What parts of my life need healing, mercy, resurrection?

Where is my interior necrosis?
Where is the dead part of my soul?

Do I reflect the joy of Christ, or am I like a mourner at a funeral?

CLOSING PRAYER

Don’t forget to provide some prayer time at the beginning and at the end of the session (or both), allowing time to offer prayers for anyone you wish to pray for.

You call me to come out, Lord, from all that keeps me bound and facing death of one sort or another—insecurity, anger, hopelessness, fear, disappointment in myself and others. The trappings of this life, like accomplishment, money, unhealthy dependence on others are wrappings that keep me from freely experiencing your gift of life and love. Set me free Lord. If I do not hear your call, call me again. And again.

FOR THE WEEK AHEAD

Weekly Memorization
Taken from the gospel for today’s session….Lazarus, Come out!

Meditations
A meditation in the Ignatian style: Read John 11: 1-44 again. Imagine the various scenes in this story. Try to picture Mary and Martha coping with the desperate illness of their brother. Imagine the scene on the far side of the Jordan where Jesus is hiding out to avoid arrest. What is Jesus actually doing when he receives the message about Lazarus? Try to put yourself in Mary and Martha’s shoes as they see Jesus after Lazarus has died. Would you react the same way? How does Jesus react? What does that tell you about his feelings for Lazarus and for Mary and Martha? Have you ever felt that God was a little too slow in reacting to a crisis in your life? Reflect on the final outcome and see if you can detect the presence of God in good times and in bad times. Imagine a dialogue with the risen Lazarus. What do you think he would say to you? by Anne Greenfield from Songs of Life: Psalm Meditations from the Catholic Community at Stanford

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/ Imagination: There is a section of John’s gospel which we do not hear on any Sunday. It is John 12:1-11. Read it. In that passage we have the story of a dinner Jesus attended at the home of Martha and Mary, and Lazarus was present! Imagione you are there—as a guest , a servant, or one of Jesus disciples….What does Lazarus loook like? Is he robust or still a little weak? What does he say to Jesus when Jesus arrives at their home? Imagine the conversation that tale place around the table among the family of Lazarus and the disciples. What do you think some of the questions are? What do you want to ask Lazarus or Jesus? Are you a little uncomfortable at this table? How do you feel when Mary began anointing Jesus with oil? Are you uncomfortable at witnessing this personal gesture? Are you a little fllummoxed? Or ae you a little irritated that such money is being wasted then it could. Go to the poor? How do you react to Judas’ objections? (remember here, that at this time you have no notion about the events of a week later, about Judas betrayal, the agony in the garden, Peter’s denial or Jesus death an burial). Find your own voice and speak to Lazarus about what you have witnessed. Speak to Jesus about his promise to all of us of eternal life. What do you say?

A Meditation in the Franciscan Style/Action: Is it hard to know what to say to someone who is in the throes of grief? Can one simply acknowledge that we do not know how to help, but that we are concerned about them and are available if needed? Do you know of anyone who is grieving the loss of a loved one, or a job, or health? What one gesture of sympathy and solidarity can you make this week to comfort this person?

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions: (A homily of Pope Francis on April 6, 2014) Today I invite you to think for a moment, in silence here: where is my interior necrosis? Where is the dead part of my soul? Where is my tomb? Think, for a short moment….What part of the heart can be corrupted because of my attachment to sin, one sin or another? And to remove the stone, to take away the stone of shame and allow the Lord to say to us as he said to Lazarus: “Come out!" that all our souls might be healed, might be raised by the love f Jesus. He is capable of forgiving us. We all need it! All of us. We are all sinners, but we must be careful not to become corrupt. Sinners we may be, but He forgives us. Reflection: Consider Pope Francis’ questions above. What parts of your life need healing, mercy, resurrection? Trust in the power of Jesus to transform you. (From A Year of Mercy with Pope Francis)

LITERARY REFLECTIONS

I wonder if this is how Mary and Martha felt when they lost their brother.

Cue Lazarus
Start this with the invocation:
a seventy-seven Pinto,
an eastbound freeway, two boys
a few months from their driver’s license.

It happens again because you’ve
said it. You sit in the back seat,
a ghost of red vinyl, to listen
to these boys—one of whom was you,

the one along for the ride—talk
brave about cheerleaders
and socket wrenches as they pass
a stolen cigarette between them.

They don’t know you’re there,
wouldn’t believe in you should
they look backstage, backseat.
The boys are driving back from an October

orchard where they’d gone to see leaves
change. You remember: orange, brown,
as though you’d just seen those leaves,
because in this proximity

to yourself—the boy in the passenger
seat—you are thinking the
same thing, and each of your in-
carnations feels like they’ve thought this

before. Your ghost, your present tense
thinks that maybe this isn’t right.
Now you’re along for the ride.
These boys haven’t cuffed up against

their own mortality yet, though one
of them is sick. The other one,
driving and picking at the thin
hair falling from his scalp, will die

soon, because what lurks in his dark
blood can be cured by medical
science. And that cure is what will
kill him, as it leaves him weak,

unable to fight off infection
in his lungs. But that comes later.
You are here with them now to find
out what you owe to whom—your life,

mortgaged to one of these boys
and you’ve never been able to
rectify that debt. You are the
stage direction, a ghost backstage,

wanting a spotlight, a soapbox
a soliloquy. Dissolve
back into your life, like sugar
in tea—exit this scene now, stage left.

*You are the apparition again
in your mother’s house. You follow
yourself down the yellow hallway
to the ringing phone in the kitchen.

You already know who’s calling,
the way you knew then—when you were
the self you’re haunting. Your friend
is dead. You know this even before

his sister tells you—but because your
ghost is too close, the boy can feel
your grief, but can’t feel his own.
And you did know then, didn’t you?

You knew that morning, that the earth
awakes closest to the sun—four
days into every new year.
And Lazarus, dead now, four days.

Roll away the stone. Believe
in something besides the past.
Awaken from this dream like
a man called out from a cave.

It happens this way each time:
a bourbon breakdown in January
rain—weeping an invocation,
cursing corollary.

Can you go to Tom’s grave today
and mandate him back to this life?
Should you cue him from the wing
like a stage direction? Would he

damn you—a sadness, a gravestone
on your chest, for calling him
into this mortal suffering?
If you had been in Houston that day

he’d have died anyway. You’re a fool
to think you can bargain across the river.
Haunting the past won’t stop
it from happening each time, exactly

the same way. Won’t stop your heart
from breaking like a glass decanter,
brown whisky sliding
mercury across the tile.
—Carl Marcum

Sit with this poem for a while and see of it says anything to you about hope. Birago Diop, A Muslim poet from Senegal, sums up our convictions about those who have gone before us.

Those who are dead have never gone away,
They are in the shadows darkening around,
They are in the shadows fading into day,
The dead are not under the ground.
They are in the trees that quiver,
They are in the woods that weep,
They are in the waters of the rivers,
They are in the waters that sleep.
They are in the crowds, they are in the homestead.
The dead are never dead