Reflection on Luke 9:51–62 from “Interrupting the Silence”

Reflection on Luke 9:51–62. From “Interrupting the Silence”

Jesus is calling us into question and that’s never easy, fun, or comfortable. He is calling into question the direction of our life, the values we claim to hold, and how we are living and embodying those values. He is asking us to look at ourselves rather than the Samaritan on whom we’d like to call down fire from heaven.

By Samaritan I mean those who look, act, and believe differently from us; those who do not hold our particular religious or political beliefs; those who are not from these parts; those to whom we are opposed and in conflict with, for whatever reasons. And if you’re not sure who your Samaritans are look at your social media feed and who posts the articles and comments that push your buttons, turn on the news channel you refuse to watch, picture the face of one you crush and defeat in the arguments that go on in your head.

Today’s gospel won’t let us turn away from the people and situations that are right in front of us or the future that is coming to us. Jesus recognizes and holds before us the tension in which we live. On the one hand we say to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” On the other hand we say to him, “But first let me go and …” You probably know what that’s like. I know I do.

When have you experienced that tension? When has it felt like you were being pulled in two directions, the way of Jesus and some other way? In what ways have you said, “But first let me go and…?”

It’s easy and simple to follow Jesus, in principle. Love your neighbor as yourself, love your enemy, welcome the stranger, visit the sick and imprisoned, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, give the thirsty something to drink, turn the other cheek, forgive not just seven times but seventy times seven. These are values Jesus holds. That’s where Jesus is going. That’s the direction in which he has set his face. That’s the road to Jerusalem and it sounds good. Most of us probably agree with those values. It’s the road we too have chosen to travel, in principle.

But it’s so much harder and messier to follow Jesus in life than in principle. I suspect we are all in favor of love, hospitality, forgiveness, and nonviolence until we meet the unloveable, the stranger who scares us, the unforgivable act, the one who throws the first punch, or the Samaritan in our life. Then it’s a different story and that story usually begins with, “But first….”

Jesus, however, puts no qualifications, limitations, or exceptions on where he is going, who is included, or what he is offering. He doesn’t seem to care who we are, where we are from, or what we have done or left undone. Republican or Democrat, citizen or foreigner, Christian or Muslim, gay or straight, black or white, good or bad, believer or nonbeliever just don’t seem to matter to Jesus. For him there is no why, no conditions, attached to love, hospitality, forgiveness, or giving. He does not allow for a “but first” in his life or the lives of his followers.

“But first” is the way we put conditions on the unconditional.

• Yes, I will love the other but first let me go and see who the other is, whether she or he is deserving of love, whether I like him or her, whether he or she agrees with and is agreeable to me.

• Yes, I will open my door to and welcome the stranger but first let me go and see who’s knocking, how different he or she is from me, what she or he wants, what I am risking.

• Yes, I will forgive another but first let me go and see if she or he has acknowledged her or his wrongdoing, is sorry for what they did, and has promised to change.

• Yes, I will give to and care for another but first let me go and see why I should, what it will cost me, and what’s in it for me.

But first…

It’s as if we are backing our way into the kingdom while keeping an eye on the door. It’s as if we are walking backwards into our future, not wanting to see or deal with what is before us. It’s as if we have put our hand to the plow and looked back. And we already know what Jesus thinks about that.

I don’t want to back my way through this life. I don’t want to live, if you will pardon a bad pun, a butt first life. And I hope you don’t either. I want us to turn and lead with our hearts, that deep heart that loves the unlovable, forgives the unforgivable, welcomes the stranger, and gives without seeking a payback or even a thank you.

I wasn’t kidding when I said that this is a difficult gospel. I wish I could resolve this in some neat and simple way, as much for myself as for you, but I can’t. It’s not about resolving the gospel. It’s about resolving ourselves, resolving our heart. That resolution is not a simple or one time decision. It’s a way of being in this world, a way of relating to others, a direction for our life. It’s a choice we make every day. It’s the road to Jerusalem.

That means looking at the ways in which we are backing through life. It means naming the people and situations to which we have turned our backs, and acknowledging that we do sometimes live a “but first” life.

I wonder what our lives and world would be like if we were to love, give, welcome, and forgive without a “but first?”

I think it would be risky and scary and look pretty crazy. But as I look at the world, read the news, and listen to the lives and stories of others, the world is already risky, scary, and crazy. So what if we took a better risk, faced a better fear, and lived a kinder craziness? And what if we were to let that start with you and me, today, in our lives, in our particular situations, and with whoever or whatever is before us?

What if we were to lead with our hearts and not “but(t) first?”

The Body and Blood of Christ, June 19, 2022

God, through Jesus, feeds us and sustains us

Luke 9:11b–17

Jesus spoke to the crowds about the kingdom of God, and he healed those who needed to be cured. As the day was drawing to a close, the Twelve approached him and said, “Dismiss the crowd so that they can go to the surrounding villages and farms and find lodging and provisions; for we are in a deserted place here.”

He said to them, “Give them some food yourselves.” They replied, “Five loaves and two fish are all we have, unless we ourselves go and buy food for all these people.” Now the men there numbered about five thousand. Then he said to his disciples, “Have them sit down in groups of about fifty.” They did so and made them all sit down.

Then taking the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, he said the blessing over them, broke them, and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd. They all ate and were satisfied. And when the leftover fragments were picked up, they filled twelve wicker baskets.

Music Meditations

• I Am the Bread of Life—John Michael Talbot
• In the Breaking of the Bread—Kitty Cleveland
• Ave Verum Corpus—Andrea Bocelli
• Table of Plenty—Dan Schutte
• You Satisfy the Hungry Heart—Richard Proulx and the Cathedral Singers

Opening Prayer

Lord, you are always watching out for us, caring for us, feeding us. Help us to see your generosity in our lives, and help us to be thankful and generous.

Companions for the Journey

This reflection is from Fr. Jude Siciiano. O.P., in “First Impressions” 2022, a service of the Southern Dominican Province:

This feast was established for the entire Church in 1264. It was intended as a way to honor Christ present in the Eucharist. This was the time when Eucharistic devotions made their appearance—Blessed Sacrament processions, visits to the Blessed Sacrament and expositions of the Sacrament. While these were good devotions, the links that had been expressed previously in the early church between the Eucharistic assembly and the Eucharistic meal, became weakened. Thus, the notion that the Eucharist is the body of Christ—is the Church—declined in awareness.

Just before today’s gospel episode we read that the apostles had returned from their preaching mission and Jesus had wanted time apart with them—but the crowds “found this out and followed him” (9:10-11). Nevertheless, he “received” the crowds; there is a sense of a warm welcome here. Jesus is going to see to all their needs. These were subsistence level people, just a day or two from hunger and even starvation. Nevertheless, the crowds in the story just didn’t get “fast food” to fill their bellies, even though they were hungry. First, they heard about God and the announcement of the reign of God from Jesus. Healings followed. But the healings don’t just end after the opening line, they are there for the people and us in the feeding as well. Notice the time of day, “As sunset approached.” It is getting dark. There is the darkness of war in our world these days. As I write this the Ukrainians are hanging on by their fingertips under heavy bombardment by the invading Russians. The war is causing another darkness: it has destroyed Ukraine’s supply and export of wheat. That darkness, even in more peaceful times, is always with millions of hungry people throughout the world. The conflict is prompting countries to hoard wheat. The poor of Africa, who rely on this wheat, are on the verge of starvation. Even when war does not destroy food sources, still the poor go hungry. Economists tell us that there would have enough to eat if the world’s food and goods were more equitably distributed. This is a point made by the “Bread for the World” movement. Their literature is readily available and they have an office in Washington for a quick call if we need statistics for preaching, or classes. Try their webpage for a fast response. Or, call a local group that feeds the hungry for information. The gospel story has the word “distribution” in it and the disciples are in charge of that “distribution”. We also need to tend to distribution, i.e., to note how things are being distributed. Who are left out when decisions are made locally and on a national level about who gets the “goods” and who does not.

A large crowd is fed and all have “enough.” They share a simple meal, all eat, no one gets different, or fancier food and thus there is enough for all. Consider the word—“enough.” Who gets “More than enough,” in our world; who doesn’t get “enough”? Try calling a local food pantry to find out if they have “enough” food. I know a men’s group that collects slightly damaged food from local supermarkets that richer people don’t buy. They take the food to a food pantry for the poor. Another parish has families taking turns going to a shelter to bring and cook meals on a regular basis. Are there similar efforts in our own congregation that somehow can make Jesus’ “feeding presence” felt in the community of the hungry? The disciples wanted to send the crowd away, push the hungry out of sight and so forget their needs. “As sunset approached....” It is dark indeed because of their blindness. Jesus wants the opposite. Initially he tells the people the very good news of the reign and heals them (the first verse). But then the reign’s reality is felt, made visible, ”enfleshed,” when he responds to their hungry. The disciples now are the ones to receive a healing when they “see” how to address the needs of these people. First there are small groups of 50—little communities are formed to make the meal personal, to heal the hungers of our alienation.

We are not just an anonymous crowd of “the hungry” any longer. We are a community that shares the bread in a meal of equality. People of higher ranking don’t get more than those of lower; we all get more than enough for our hungers. And as disciples, we learn not to distance ourselves from the needs of others, for in small groups, we get to know each other and are better able to feed the hungers of body and spirit of those around us. Our church communities, though larger than the groups of fifty in the story, become ways we can get to know one another and attend to the hungers we discover there. In the Eucharistic bread and wine today we are receiving the One who invites us to come close and receive a healing. We are also receiving the One who asks his disciples, “Why do you not give them something to eat yourselves?” Our response may be puzzlement and confusion as we look at the enormity of the problem. But the Eucharist can heal us and open our eyes and minds to how we can feed the hungry and where they can be found in our immediate environment. There is a healing for us too in this story, as our eyes are opened, and this healing comes by way of the food Jesus provides.

Further reading:

• Corpus Christi—First Impressions >>
• Corpus Christi—Living Space >>

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

“Give them some food yourselves.”

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

• Adapted from Jude Siciliano O.P., 2022:
  As we note Jesus’ hospitality, how welcoming and generous are we at our celebrations?
  As Jesus says a blessing, are we aware of the blessing that food is?
  And the gift we enjoy when we eat?
  Do we treat food as something precious?
  We note how simple meals can satisfy in a community, and how all eat the same food and are nourished. God has more than enough (they had “leftovers”) to satisfy our hungers at this meal. What kind of examples are we setting for our children in regard to simple life styles, care for others, frugality, etc.?
  We read : “…they followed his instructions” …the hungry must be fed. We have his instructions. Do we live them?
• Are there people in our current society who are “gathered in a lonely place”? Who are they?
• ”Give them some food yourselves”. In what way are you personally called to feed God’s people?
• What is my feeling about the Eucharist? Do I connect it with the story of the Loaves and fishes?
  Loaves and Fishes = Eucharist = Hospitality. Where do I fit into this equation?
• In this story, what criteria did Jesus use in deciding who should be fed?
  What criterial does the Church use in deciding who should be fed?
• What food in my panty could I share with the hungry?
• Do I support, with time or money, parish or community programs that feed the hungry?
• What hungers do I see around me in my daily life?
  How do I respond to those hungers?
• by Daniel J Harrington. S.J.:
  Which aspects of the Eucharist do you find most meaningful?
  What are the concrete ways in which the Eucharist shapes your life as a Christian?
• What Is there a disconnect between my prayer life, my “church” life and the everyday life I lead? Why or why not?
• According to Father Ronald Rolheiser in The Holy Longing, when Jesus talks about eating his flesh, he uses a term for the body in all its messiness and ugliness, not some glorified or intellectual notion of body. (Sarx is the Greek word used, one that refers to the body in its messiness and ugliness, its illness and dysfunction)
  Are we messy, dysfunctional? Are we beautiful? How do we know this?
  Is the Church messy, dysfunctional? How?
  Is the Church holy, graced and beautiful? How?
  Do you expect the Church to be perfect? Better than it is? Why or why not?
• Have I ever had an experience of being ‘fed’ by God’s word?
• Jesus made the crowds welcome! Have I a sense of being made welcome by Jesus and all that that being ‘made welcome’ can mean for me?
• From “Sacred Space”, a ministry of the Irish Jesuits:
  The text does not take into account the number of women and children.!
  What is that like for me to read this?
  Will I read this text differently depending on my gender?
• From Stephen Cole, online commentary:
  Since there are so many needs in the world, how do we know where to devote our time, effort, and money?
  When is it right to say “no” to the needs and demands of people?
  Are there areas of service you should not refuse just because you think that you are not so gifted?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:

This gospel is as much about the Apostles as it is about a miracle performed by Jesus. Or maybe the miracle is that Jesus saw in the few loaves and fishes possessed by his disciples food and sustenance for a large number of needy people. When Jesus said: “You feed them yourselves”, he was teaching them self-reliance, initiative and most of all, generosity. The apostles had to give something away, not know what plans Jesus had for their meager gifts. So the questions we might have for ourselves about the message and challenges of this gospel section are several: Do I believe that God actually gives us each day the sustenance we need? Can I differentiate between what I want and what I actually need? Do I see myself as an agent of Jesus bringing “food”, comfort, safety to those in our world who might need it, or do I expect a miracle?

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination:

Imagine that you are one of the crowd following Jesus that day. What do you have with you as provisions for the day away from home? Are you hungry? Thirsty? What do you so when you hear the apostles telling you to sit down? Do you expect to be fed? How? Imagine the scene as people begin to sit on the ground. Do you sit with people you already know, or is everyone a stranger? When Jesus has blessed the food and passes it out, do you share also what you have brought with you? Do others? What is the miracle here?

A Meditation in the Franciscan Style/Action:

“They all ate and were satisfied.” (—Luke 9:17)

The prayer which we repeat at every Mass: “Give us this day our daily bread,” obliges us to do everything possible, in cooperation with international, state and private institutions to end or at least reduce the scandal of hunger and malnutrition afflicting so many millions of people in our world, especially in developing countries. In a particular way, the Christian laity, formed at the school of the Eucharist, are called to assume their specific political and social responsibilities. To do so, they need to be adequately prepared through practical education in charity and justice. To this end it is necessary for Dioceses and Christian communities to teach and promote the Church’s social doctrine. (—Sacramentum Caritatis, Pope Benedict XVI, 2007)

Did you know?

1. An estimated 854 million people across the world are hungry.
2. Every year, 15 million children die from hunger-related causes—one child every five seconds.
3. 35.1 million people in the US—including 12.4 million children—live in households that experience hunger or the risk of hunger. This represents more than one in ten households in the United States (11.0 percent).
4. Nearly one in four people, 1.3 billion—a majority of humanity—live on less than $1 per day, while the world’s 358 billionaires have assets exceeding the combined annual incomes of countries with 45 percent of the world’s people.
5. Infant mortality rate is closely linked to inadequate nutrition among pregnant women. The U.S. ranks 23rd among industrial nations in infant mortality.
6. To satisfy the world’s sanitation and food requirements would cost US$13 billion—what the people of the U.S. and the European Union spend on perfume each year.

What Can I do?

1. Don’t take your “daily bread” for granted.
2. Fast for a day to better understand the experience of hunger and to be in solidarity with the hungry of the world. Donate the money you would have spent on food to a hunger program, local or global.
3. Learn about issues of hunger and how you can make a difference.
4. Join one of your parish or community ministries which address issues of hunger. Do something!

Literary Reflection:

Commenting on her poem, Mary Oliver wrote words of wisdom for theologians: “Centuries ago theologians claimed they had parsed with precision how God acted on the bread and wine during the celebration of the Eucharist. This wasn’t helpful. Their lust for certitude bruised a mystery which was best left alone. It eventually birthed theological wars about the nature of a meal that was ironically intended to mend, not tear apart. I don’t need to know what happens to the bread and wine to experience the oceanic love of God that I feel when I receive it, any more than a newborn needs to know the mother’s name and address to see and feel the adoration in her gaze. To which I wish all God’s people might say, ‘Amen’”.

“The Vast Ocean Begins Just Outside Our Church: The Eucharist”

Something has happened
To the bread
And the wine.

They have been blessed.
What now?
The body leans forward

To receive the gift
From the priest’s hand,
Then the chalice.

They are something else now
From what they were
Before this began.

I want
To see Jesus,
Maybe in the clouds

Or on the shore,
Just walking,
Beautiful man

And clearly
Someone else
Besides.

On the hard days
I ask myself
If I ever will.

Also there are times
My body whispers to me
That I have.

—Mary Oliver, from Thirst

Poetic Reflection:

This is a beautiful meditation on the real meaning of Corpus Christi:

"Gather the People"

What return can we make
for all the Lord has done in our lives?
We bring bread, wine, our clay dishes
and our clay feet
to this altar
and we pray that we may here
make a beginning—
that somehow in our days
we can begin to see the promises
the Lord has made us.

The promises do not always
glow with obvious light, or
overwhelm us by their obvious truth.
No matter what anyone says,
it is difficult to understand an invisible God
and belief is not always
the easy way out.

So we gather the people
and we tell the story again
and we break the bread
and in the memory of the one
who saves us,
we eat and drink
and we pray and we believe.

We gather, we pray, we eat.
These things are for human beings.
God has no need of them.
Yet he himself gathered the people,
prayed, broke bread
and gave it to his friends.

And so the invisible God became
visible
and lives with us.

—Ed Ingebretzen, S.J., from Psalms of the Still Country

Closing Prayer

God of Abundance, give us the generosity to see that we are the body of Christ in this world. Help us to feed the hungry and care for those in need, and provide charity based on relationship, not pity. Give us the insight to realize that the meaning of true success may not be measured in money or power, but in serving others. Help us to recognize the joy of the Eucharist and to proclaim Christ in our daily lives…

Corpus Christi–Living Space

Commentary on Genesis 14:18-20, 1 Corinthians 11:23-26, Luke 9:11b-17 from “Living Space”, a service of the Irish Jesuits:

In a way we have already celebrated this feast. We did so on Holy (Maundy) Thursday in Holy Week. On that occasion, the emphasis was on the institution, the gift of the Eucharist to us as one of Jesus’ last acts before his suffering and death. It was, moreover, to be an enduring memorial of that great liberating act by which God’s love would be forever kept before our minds.

One reason why we may have this second feast of the Eucharist is that it takes place during the more joyful period of the Easter season when we can celebrate it with greater freedom from the constraints of Lent and Holy Week. In many parts of the world, there will be a solemn and joyful procession of the Blessed Sacrament through the parish grounds or even through the public streets.

Community dimension

Perhaps today we should emphasize more the community dimension of the celebration of the Eucharist which is often missing. We tend to see “going to Mass” very much in individual terms. If “I” fail to “go to Mass” through “my own fault”, “I” have committed a mortal sin. We also tend to talk about “hearing” Mass, or being “at Mass”. We ask questions like: “Who said the Mass?” The priest himself may even be heard to announce: “I am saying this Mass for the repose of the soul of…” or even “I am saying this Mass for all of you here”.

On reflection, these expressions are very strange. They tend to present the Eucharist as something that the priest alone does on behalf of other people. People seem to feel themselves present at a performance in which they are only expected to be physically present. This is sometimes further accentuated by a choir doing all the singing (that is, if there is singing) and a “commentator” shouting out all the prayers over the microphone. Quite a number of people come in late and many leave before the end. These things are all so common that we hardly notice them. We may even accept these things as the way things should be. But it tells us a lot about what it means to people to be present (or not present) at the Eucharist.

Active participation

The Eucharist is essentially and of its very nature a community action in which every person present is expected to be an active participant. We are here, on the one hand, recalling what makes us Christians in the first place – our identification with the life, suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus. And that identification with Jesus is expressed not through a one-to-one relationship with him but in a community relationship with him present in all those who call themselves Christian. We relate to him through his Risen Body, which is the whole community bearing his name. There is no place in Christianity for individualism. It is a horizontal faith: we go to God with and through those around us.

Every Lord’s Day we come together as that Body, as a community, to say thanks to him and hence the name “Eucharist” which means “thanks”. It is regrettable, then, if we are only in church to “keep the Third Commandment” on a purely private, individual, devotional basis. With that mentality, it will not be surprising if we think it does not matter if we are late or leave early. Because, with that mentality, “going to Mass” is a private affair for me and all the others who “happen” to be there, too.

Some even resent that there is too much going on. They wonder why they cannot be “left in peace to say their prayers”. It is true some Mass celebrations can be overactive or over-intrusive but, on the other hand, it is not a time for contemplative prayer. One can do that much better at home. The whole point of being at Mass is to celebrate together with one’s fellow-Christians as a community of the disciples of Jesus.

Eating together

As well as remembering and giving thanks as a community, as the Body of Christ, the Eucharist is also a time when we express that unity through the eating and drinking together of that Body.

The key to our being in Christ is love, love not only for God, but for every single person. Jesus said that the two ways by which it would be known publicly that we live in him would be by our love for each other and the unity which follows from that. “By this will all know that you are my disciples, that you have love one for another” (John 13:35) and “May they all be one… may they be so completely one that the world will realise that it was you [the Father] who sent me” (John 17:21,23).

This, of course, we are to manifest first and foremost by the way we live our daily lives. And one of the reasons we may find it difficult to express ourselves as community during Mass is because we do not have that deepdown sense of togetherness as Christians in general. Mass is not the time to manufacture community; rather, it is the time to celebrate it. Unfortunately, past emphasis on individual morality as the key to “saving my soul” still runs deep several decades after the Second Vatican Council. As a result, we come into the church on Sunday largely as strangers to each other.

Stiff and formal

Not surprisingly, the “sign of peace” is, in many cases, hardly a warm-hearted act of reconciliation and friendship but a stiff and formal bowing in which some people decline to take part.

Communion can be seen primarily as “receiving Jesus in my heart”. I close my eyes lest I might be “distracted” by the people around me. The choir sings on my behalf while I make “my thanksgiving”. Certainly reverence and prayer have their place at Communion time, as throughout the Eucharist. But we need to remember, too, that we are taking part in the joyful celebration of a community of brothers and sisters. This communion calls for sharing and communication and even a certain level of spontaneity and naturalness.

“Going to communion” is not a private “receiving” but a sharing, an eating together of the one Bread and the shared drinking of the one Cup. This one Bread and one Cup represent Jesus in his Risen Body; it includes not only Jesus but the whole community present. We recognise in the sharing not just the individual Jesus coming to me but Jesus in his Body, of which we are all part.

Jesus is in the host but he is also in the hand that gives the host and in the hand of the one who receives. There are some ultra-devotional people who genuflect just before receiving. By right, they should also genuflect to the whole congregation because that is where the real presence of Christ is. If Jesus is not present by faith and action in this community, what meaning can the Eucharist have?

Eucharistic ministers

Hence the meaningfulness now in some parishes of having the induction of lay Eucharistic ministers on this day. We have moved from a purely priest-centered Eucharist at which the laity are passive spectators to one that is community-centered because that is where Christ is to be found. The priest still has his role, of course, as the one who presides. He is the focal point of unity around which the community gathers but it is the community, including the priest, who celebrates.

These ministers may also be bringing the Eucharist to the sick and the housebound. This is, too, an extension of the community celebration of the Eucharist. Our sick brothers and sisters cannot come personally to the community celebration but they are reminded of their membership when they share the same Body of Christ, which binds all together. In communion, not just Jesus but the whole parish comes to them.

Corpus Christi—First Impressions

The following was written by Father Jude Siciliano, O.P., in “First Impressions”, a service of the Southern Dominican Province:

After preaching in parishes during Lent and the post-Easter weeks, I have noticed a continuation of the eucharistic devotion I remember from my childhood. On this feast (”Corpus Christi”), in my boyhood parish in Brooklyn, we had a procession with the host carried in a gold monstrance around the church building and then taken to the altar, where it was reverenced in silent adoration and then with benediction and Latin hymns. Several parishes I visited in recent months still have similar silent adoration for some period during the week.

One parish had “perpetual adoration” in a side chapel open 24 hours to the public. Worshipers signed up to be present in shifts throughout the day and night. A benefit of this eucharistic adoration in those busy city parishes was the opportunity for the faithful to drop in and spend some precious moments of silence with the Lord, away from the hustle and bustle of their lives. Such eucharistic piety goes back way beyond my childhood to over 1000 years ago when there was an intense increase in eucharistic devotion – specifically focused on Christ’s presence in the Eucharist.

Since Vatican II, we have broadened our awareness to emphasize Christ’s true presence in the gathered assembly. (At a dinner table in one parish recently one priest said he thought people found it harder to accept Christ’s presence in the baptized than in the bread in the monstrance, or the cup of wine and bread on the altar.)

Today’s feast isn’t a way of returning to a former day of only silent reverence and genuflections before the consecrated host. Rather, this feast invites us to broaden our faith vision to include a deeper awareness of our common priesthood; especially in the diverse ministries included in and derived from our eucharistic celebration: the proclamation of the Word; the role of Eucharistic ministers and those sent to take communion to the sick; the music ministry etc. The laity also have a larger role now in the planning of our liturgies. While we want to reclaim our sense of reverence and contemplative silence for the sacred species, we also are graced with current practices that celebrate Christ’s presence in our ministerial and worshiping community.

We also recall today Christ’s true presence in the world--a presence that began with his human body, real flesh and blood like ours. He was subject to human emotions of joy, love, yearning, and pain-- just as we are. We also celebrate our own human bodies – the sign, beginning at our baptism, of God’s presence in the world. Because of Jesus, our physical presence in the world is also a sign of God’s saving love and power present through us, who are nourished today by the Body and Blood of Christ. Our bodies reflect God’s love for others and God’s compassionate presence to those whose bodies and spirits are used, afflicted, abused, distraught, etc.

Today, our presider will invoke the Holy Spirit and say over the bread, “This is my body which will be given up for you...,” and over the wine, “This is the cup of my blood....” These words are also said over us, for we are the body of Christ “given” and the “blood” offered to the world. Jesus gave his entire life, body and blood, for us and our communion with him enables us to give our lives in sacrificial love for the world as he did. Our lives, like that of Jesus, are given by God to be instruments of God’s reconciliation, love and justice for the world

In the gospel today, Jesus sees the hungers of those around him. He directs his disciples, “Give them some food yourselves.” They claim their inadequacy to address the challenge he gave them. “Five loaves and two fish are all we have....” They are right, the hungers of the world are too much to address on our own. But we are not on our own. The miracle of the multiplication symbolizes what we celebrate at our Eucharist: Jesus gave himself to feed the hungers of the world. We celebrate today that Jesus is giving himself to us and calling us to imitate his love whenever we encounter the many hungers around us. “Give them some food yourselves.” Today we are concretely reminded in the bread and wine, the Body and Blood of Christ, that we can feed the world’s hungers because we have been fed by the Lord in whatever deserted place we have found ourselves.

The Ascension of the Lord, May 29, 2022

We are now the witnesses, and Jesus promised us that we would not be left alone

John 24:46–53

He told them, “This is what is written: The Messiah will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.

You are witnesses of these things.

I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.”

When he had led them out to the vicinity of Bethany, he lifted up his hands and blessed them.

While he was blessing them, he left them and was taken up into heaven.

Then they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy.

And they stayed continually at the temple, praising God.

Music Meditations

• Nada Te Turbe--Mostar Taize
• Jesus Christ, Yesterday Today and Forever--Mayor McNugget
• Yahweh I Know You Are Near
• Be Not Afraid

Opening Prayer

Jesus, open my heart and free me from my selfish preoccupations so that I can hear the message of love and support you gave the disciples, and are giving now, to me. Let me not be distracted from this promise by my everyday cares and worries. Remind me that you are always there and that I can always call on you. Then, give me the energy and the courage to spread the hope of your promise in a world so broken by selfishness and violence.

Companions for the Journey

Commentary on the current gospel from John Kerrigan’s homily for the Solemnity of the Ascension of Our Lord 2012:

Did you ever wonder why the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus—albeit three notable events in his life—get so much attention and yet his ascension hardly ever seems to merit honorable mention? After all, this great ecumenical feast of the Church, which occurs 40 days after Easter, appears equally important even if it is far less well understood. It’s important because the Ascension has very little to do with the absence of Christ, and everything to do with his magnification. Pope Benedict tells us that Jesus was “not transported to another cosmic location.” Rather, his Ascension galvanized his disciples; they became witnesses who resembled thunderbolts in terms of the energy they brought to the task of proclaiming the Good News.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Allow me to take a step back, and ask you to picture with me three short vignettes. The first took place 16 years ago this week. It was Friday, May 24th, 1996, three days after our oldest daughter, Lauren, was born and time to leave the hospital and go home. After months of preparation, days spent devouring numerous books and articles—including the classic “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” putting time aside to baby proof our home, and the wonderful support of hospital staff and family, it was now time for Elizabeth and me to take full responsibility for this beautiful little girl. Among the many emotions I experienced that Friday morning was a genuine fear—one might even say panic—that I was utterly unprepared for this challenging task. Elizabeth and I looked at each other and I said, “It’s our baby, baby!” I suspect many parents have had a similar experience.

Vignette two: a few weeks ago, a Stanford student told me about the end of her first day as a freshman here at The Farm. Here are her words: “That first night, as I lay in bed, I thought to myself, I may never live at home again. I am on my own.” Can any of you identify with this thrilling, and at the same time, intimidating feeling?

This third vignette occurs at Stanford every year just about mid-June when thousands of black robed students in mortarboard hats flow past this Memorial Church, with beaming relatives trailing behind them decked out with cameras and bouquets. It’s graduation time, a time of great celebration. The students will be told many wonderful things, about leadership, about staying true to their ideals…. And implicit in all the speeches is this sobering point: now, perhaps for the first time in your life, you are going to be held responsible. After graduation parties have wound down, and academic gowns have been turned in, it may come as a shock for many graduates that from here on out the responsibility of making decisions and putting their lives together, getting jobs, paying off loans, even folding their clothes, rests no longer on parents or teachers, advisors or counselors, but on themselves. Life: “it’s your baby, baby!”

The joys and apprehensions felt by new parents, or a first-year or graduating student, are, I suspect, similar to the emotions experienced by the disciples described in today’s reading from Scripture. For a period of time after Christ’s death and resurrection, the apostles and disciples would encounter the risen Christ in unexpected places—in the upper room, or at the seashore of Lake Tiberius, or on the Road to Emmaus. But gradually these encounters grew less frequent, until finally they stopped altogether and the apostles realized that they were on their own. They couldn’t run to Jesus and ask “What do we do now?” Or “what’s next on the agenda? Where do we go next week to attend the sick or preach the Gospel?” No, now they had to figure that out for themselves.

This is the meaning of the feast of the Ascension: it marks that point in the mystery of Easter when the apostles realized that Jesus was now in the full embrace of God’s love, or as the readings put it, had been taken up into heaven. Neither they nor we are going to see him again until the end of time. This message is also clear: don’t stand there staring at the sky; the ball is in your court now! And whether they know it or not, the disciples are more than ready for the ball to be in their court. For over the past 40 days after Easter, we’ve been hearing about the transformation of Jesus’s followers from tentative, afraid and anxious men and women into persons who resemble thunderbolts in their zeal to proclaim and witness to the Good News.

Well, the ball is in our court too. The Feast of the Ascension reminds us each year that the apprenticeship is over; we’re the witnesses now. Whether you and I feel strong and firm in our faith, or like so many, have as many questions and doubts as answers—you and I are the ones chosen to make God’s love known, not throughout Judea and Samaria, but here in Palo Alto and the Bay Area, or in the daily asceticism of our academic disciplines and professional lives.

And when we do so with the vigor of these early disciples, these thunderbolts, we like Jesus before us will find ourselves more and more in the full embrace of God’s love.

Read another reflection on The Real Meaning of the Ascension >>

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

You are witnesses to these things

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

• Have I ever felt bereft and abandoned by someone’s leaving my life?
  Did my life change?
  Did I turn outward to others and the world or did I withdraw into myself?
  Which response is more like that of the Apostles?
• Do I see Jesus’ ascension as his liberation of the smallness of a world which could no longer contain him?
  Can I look at the death of someone I know or love in the same way and rejoice for them?
  Why is this hard?
• How well do you keep your promises?
  Has anyone ever broken a promise to you?
  Has Jesus?
• What does it mean to me to “witness” something?
  Is it a passive observation or a more active testimony?
  Which am I more comfortable with?
• I think of something I have experienced (religious or not) that I want to witness to.
• In what ways am I a witness (an active sign) of God’s presence in the world?
  In what ways is my witness to Christ a declaration of faith, and in what ways is my witness a more active testimony?
  How can I carry the reality of Christ to those around me?
• Where does prayer fit in?
• In what ways is my Church a witness to the risen Christ?
  In what ways could the Church do a better job?
  Do I believe that I am Church; that witnessing to Christ is my responsibility as well that of the ordained or other leaders?
• “God has not called you to be a successful witness; God has called you to be a faithful one.” (adapted from Mother Teresa of Calcutta). Has a personal feeling of inexperience, lack of theological training or gift for ministry held me back?
  What can I do to change this?
• Jesus’ leaving could bring fear and doubt to the disciples, as expressed by another gospel account of this event. How is Joy an antidote to doubt and fear and a sign of trust in the promises of Jesus?
• A theme of this week’s reading is JOY. How do I radiate the joy of the Gospel?
• In the Lord’s Prayer, we wish that God’s will be done here as well as in heaven—we wish for a meeting of heaven and earth.
  How does this come about, and what is my role in the transformation of the world?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Augustinian Style/Relationship:

Adapted from Praying with Julian of Norwich by Gloria Durka, pp 64-66:

Julian of Norwich: Just so [Our Lord] said in the last words with perfect fidelity, alluding to us all: You will not be overcome, And all his teaching and this true strengthening apply generally to all my fellow Christians, as is said before and so it’s the will of God.

And these words: you will not be overcome, were said very insistently and strongly, for certainty and strength against every tribulation which may come. He did not say: You will not be troubled, you will not be belabored, you will not be disquieted; but he said: you will not be overcome. (Showings, p. 315)

I reflect on the stresses and anxieties of my life and ask myself which are truly important. What can worrying do to alleviate the situation? I pray this litany in such times:

In all my anxious moments, O God.
I know I shall not be overcome.
In all my fears, O God,
I know I shall not be overcome.
In all my attempts at peacemaking, O God
I know I shall not be overcome.
In a world where there is so much suffering,
You will overcome, O God.
In a world of dying hopes,
You will overcome, O God.

(Continue the litany with your own worries, and concerns, ending each with your statement of trust in God.)

Spend a few minutes of silent communion with the God who loves you so very much and cares for you absolutely, followed by the Lord’s Prayer, in which we say “Your will be done”.

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Mini-Examen

I spend some time at the end of the day, reflecting on my thoughts, emotions and actions as I consider my role as a disciple and how I have lived that discipleship this day. The Ascension, after all, is the passing of the torch on to the disciples, a commissioning, as it were. “This commission is four-fold: Hear Jesus’ word, accept Jesus’ word, follow Jesus’ word, spread Jesus’ word.” (from “Sacred Space”) In my everyday life, how do I hear Jesus’ word? What of Jesus words have I accepted? Which have I found hard to accept? In what ways have I actually followed Jesus? In what ways can I do better? Which of my words, behaviors and actions actually spread God’s word? Which do not? Which of my loving actions toward another make the presence of Jesus real to them? Then: I thank Jesus for the wisdom and the perseverance he has given me so far. I make a mental list of some areas in which I can do better, and ask for Jesus’ help in doing so. I rest in the peace that is Christ.

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:

Read the following spectacular apocalyptic scene by the prophet Daniel (7:13-14) and the adapted commentary from the Irish Jesuits:

I saw one like a human being coming with the clouds of heaven. And he came to the Ancient One and was presented before him. To him was given dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away, and his kingship is one that shall never be destroyed.

If we were to think very schematically, we might say we have two styles of Christian living here: let’s call them Resurrection-Christianity and Kingdom-Christianity. (I am sketching here ‘ideal types’ for the sake of reflection and these should not be taken as applying to any individual or group in particular, still less as criteria for some kind of orthodoxy.) Resurrection-Christianity would focus, obviously, on the Resurrection, on the fact that Christ has overcome death and won eternal life for those who believe in Him. Kingdom-Christianity is more attentive to the arrival of the Kingdom of God, in other words a state of affairs abroad in the world, such that a new source of power and of ultimate authority is enabling and challenging human beings to allow themselves to be transformed, to receive ‘eternal life.’

What, for me, are the implications of a focused and prolonged imaginative effort to contemplate the world under the aspect of the Kingdom of Christ?

How do I discern in depth the difference that this truth makes: i.e. that it calls me to become a servant of Christ’s mission? Specifically, to what am I called as guardian of The Kingdom here on earth? How am I living out this mission?

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination:

Imagine that you are one of the disciples, returning from that scene on the mountain where Jesus disappeared forever. What do you remember about his final words, and how you felt to see him leave? What questions are in your mind at this point—such issues as “Is it really over?”, or “Who will lead us now?”, or “Am I willing to commit to this group to complete what Jesus started?”, or “Is it time for me to go back home, to my former life?” What joy do I feel as I move forward with our mission? What gives me that joy? What do I say to my friends? What do I tell our followers? How do those in the temple receive our message?

In my own 21st-century life, all I have is the story of Jesus that those before me have told. Do I believe it? If so, how do I live out my call to carry on the work of Jesus and the early disciples? Compose a prayer, asking Jesus to give you the tools you need to spread the joy of the gospel, and to give you the energy you need to change the world, to make a difference.

Poetic Reflection

How does this poem comfort us with an understanding that a) there is life after death, and b) that Jesus is with us still?

“Ascension”

And if I go,
while you’re still here…
Know that I live on,
vibrating to a different measure
—behind a thin veil you cannot see through.
You will not see me,
so you must have faith.
I wait for the time when we can soar together again,
—both aware of each other.
Until then, live your life to its fullest.
And when you need me,
Just whisper my name in your heart,
…I will be there.

—Colleen Hitchcock

Poetic Reflection:

This poem by Mary Oliver examines what our role is now that Jesus is no longer among us. Do you see yourself in this description of someone who carries a deeply joyful message of God's goodness and love?

“Messenger”

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 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.

Closing Prayer

Let me not be afraid of joy, O Lord, and help me to live that joy every moment. Help me to move beyond fear to hope. Hope in your love, hope in your presence among us, hope in our world. Help me spread joy and hope.