Hearts Aflame

The story of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus is one of the most compelling gospel accounts of a resurrection appearance of Jesus. We are I think very familiar with the story and find within it many treasures which evoke for us a true sense of the real presence of risen Jesus to the two travellers as they trudged along that ancient pathway.

Their journey begins with much sadness and spent hope, which they verbalise and relate firstly between themselves, and then to the stranger who comes alongside them. The stranger listens attentively to all they have to say, allowing them to pour out their feelings with stricken hearts, until finally their explanation ends with an account of the empty tomb. This sparks the stranger to speak. “You foolish men! So slow to believe all that the prophets have said! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer before entering into his glory?” The Gospel account then tells us that Jesus, starting with Moses, began to unfold the scriptures for them. A question we may ask is why start with Moses, rather than going to the beginning? Well, I think Luke is asking us in particular, to explore the encounter Moses had at the burning bush, and to see in that moment, a type of encounter with the transcendent, living God – an experience that these two travellers also have as they experience their hearts burning within them.

If we go back then to the book of Exodus, and to the story of Moses, we see a frightened man, whose world has fallen apart, and he chooses to run away. In a similar fashion, the two travellers are also in a state of fear, and as far as they are concerned, they are departing from a scene of desolation. Moses, journeying through the desert, encounters the burning bush, from where the voice of God emanates, commissioning him to go back to Pharoah, to the place from which he was fleeing and to proclaim to his people that they are to be liberated and set free from their slavery. The burning bush becomes the catalyst which triggers Moses’ understanding of who it is that is speaking to him and calling him to be his witness. Similarly, the two travellers, having experienced and listened to the voice of the stranger, are suddenly animated and ignited by what they now understand as their commissioning. They determine to go back to the place from which they were fleeing, and with burning hearts, begin the proclamation of the good news of our freedom from our slavery to sin, and so experience the joy the resurrection. 

This is our moment of commissioning too. At Sunday Mass we have the scriptures explained and we receive the broken bread, recognising in both, the one who calls us to turn around and with our hearts still aflame and burning inside us, begin our task as witnesses to the risen Lord who walks alongside us.

This day was made by the Lord, we rejoice and are glad

“Peace be with you”. These are the first words of the risen Jesus to his disciples when he appears to them on the evening of the day of the resurrection. The first gift of the resurrection is the peace of the Lord. It is a greeting which can also be used at the beginning of Mass: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. The first effect of this greeting, this peace, is to fill the disciples with joy. We read in the gospel account that the risen Jesus first appeared to Mary Magdalene, and he commissioned her to go and find the brothers. There is though no clear evidence of where they were gathered, but tradition identifies the Upper Room as the place where they had assembled. The same place where on the evening of the prior Thursday, Jesus had instituted the Eucharist. Such a possibility is not beyond reason, and if true, then a clear linkage is being made between the two events of the institution of the eucharist, and the real presence of the risen Jesus. Indeed, if we read on, we are told that eight days later (the following Sunday), the disciples are gathered once more, and the risen Jesus appears before them in like fashion, greeting them with his peace, and offering himself to them once more.

Perhaps what we are witnessing here is a primitive, very early description of some of the elemental features of what will become the Mass. It begins with a greeting and an offering of peace, coupled with a sense of Joy and exuberance at being together in the presence of Jesus. There is a commissioning and a moment of penitential healing. The real presence of the risen Lord is self evidently with them as Jesus speaks to Thomas and evokes from him his profession of faith. All these moments are clearly alluding to what quickly became the weekly gathering as described in the Book of Acts. (Ac C2 v 46-47)

And here we are today, likewise gathering to greet each other and to exchange the peace of the risen Lord. To receive his forgiveness and healing and to be commissioned and sent by Jesus just as he was sent by the Father. Our doors, whether open or closed, present no barrier to his being present amongst us. He comes to us, and we come to him, to receive him in the broken bread to heal the brokenness of our lives. He dissolves our fears as he offers his wounds to salve our wounds and we respond in faith and hope. This is the beating heart of the Church, gathered in this cenacle or upper room, as it does in millions of others on this and on each Sunday or dominical day.

How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord God of hosts.

It's time to sing Alleluia!

Happy Easter to one and all! Let’s tell the world the good news. Jesus is risen alleluia, alleluia! The gospel reading for Easter Sunday is from St John and one of the images you take away from that reading is how everybody is running about. Mary Magdalene comes running to Simon and the other disciple. Having listened to what she has to tell them, they go galloping off to see for themselves what has happened. They go at full speed to get to the tomb as fast as they can. Their hearts must have been thumping in their chests. What on earth was Mary on about: “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him”. It’s all very frenetic and confusing. They want to get there as fast as they can to figure out what has happened. I’m sure they arrive puffing and panting. The other disciple arrives first and stops, what does he see? Linen cloths lying on the ground. What can it mean? Then Peter arrives and without stopping goes right in to the tomb. He too sees the cloths lying on the ground, but also the face cloth, neatly rolled up in a place by itself. But what has happened and where is the body of Jesus? What is going on?

Remember how two weeks ago we read the story of Lazarus, and how he emerged from the tomb? The gospel tells us: the dead man came out, his feet and hands bound with bands of stuff and a cloth round his face. The comparison is clear. For Lazarus, the burial cloths will be needed again, whereas for Jesus, they have been left behind, no longer needed, no longer necessary, they have been discarded and left in the tomb. Death is no longer a consequence for Jesus. He has abandoned the tomb, it no longer contains him. He is risen.

We are told that seeing the cloths, the other disciple believed, but no mention is made of what Peter thought, but notice what happens next. The lectionary doesn’t continue with the narrative but the gospel itself states that the disciples then went home again. It’s a strange way to finish the story. It is a difficult phrase to translate, but it isn’t meant to convey that they simply went back to their house for breakfast. Rather it is the same phrase that the evangelist uses when, from the cross, Jesus tells the beloved disciple “This is your mother” and from that moment the disciple then took her into his home. It is in essence a building up of the nascent community of believers that has now been formed from the moment of deep sorrow of the cross, to the moment of joyful exultation at the glory of the resurrection. It is why we, as part of this community two thousand years later, can sing at the top of our voices: “Alleluia” and why we should be running to tell the world the good news!

The Great Week

Although the reading of the Passion takes place on Palm Sunday, the Gospel of the mass is read directly after the blessing of the palms. This Gospel tells the story of the entry of Jesus into the city of Jerusalem. It is a deeply prophetic moment. A moment that Jesus has deliberately and specifically designed for the people who have the eyes to see and the ears to hear to comprehend. It is Matthew who tells us that this moment is the fulfilment of the prophetic words of Zechariah, a prophet who was writing in the aftermath of the return of the Jews from their Babylonian exile, approximately 600 years before Jesus. During this time, the Temple was being rebuilt, to provide a fitting place for the worship of God. The prophecy speaks of the restoration and redemption of the people, bringing them home and gathering them anew, ending with a proclamation stating that “when that day comes, there will be no more trading in the Temple” – prophetic words indeed! We know that following on from Jesus’ acclaimed entry into Jerusalem, he goes to the Temple and begins to upset the traders’ tables, another clear sign to the people of what is happening. Thus, begins this tumultuous week.

If you can, take out some time on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of this week to read the reading and gospel of the day. I think you will find them inspiring. The Servant songs of Isaiah are set alongside the gospel narrative of the days before the passion, in which Jesus acts with a clear intent, to allow those around him to witness what he had already told them would happen. Allow the words to penetrate your thoughts, to shape your understanding of what is being revealed. A battle is being waged, a conflict is in progress, the powers and authorities conspiring against the truth which Jesus proclaimed. Put yourself alongside the familiar characters of the story and image how you would have felt and how you would have responded. Then pause and ask yourself is this still happening today?

What is your answer? Can we see in these events similar battles and conflicts that are still being fought? Oh, how timidly we fail to take on board the message, how reluctant we are to assert our belief and faith in the one who comes in the name of the Lord. This great week, this holy week is a moment for us too, to drive out the traders from our own individual temples, and to fix our eyes on Jesus, who set his face like flint, knowing his vindicator is close at hand. We need to enter this passion. We need to come and give witness on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday...

Lazarus, Come Forth

We now come to the third of the three great Lenten gospels of John, the story of the raising of Lazarus. It is one of the great stories of John’s gospel and it is unique to him. The other gospels do recount stories of Jesus restoring people to life – Luke has the widow of Nain’s son while Matthew and Mark have the raising of Jairus’ daughter, but they have none of the sheer drama and powerful impact of the raising of Lazarus. John has used the story to offer a deep challenge to our faith.

Lazarus is dead, of that there is no doubt. He has been in the grave for four days
and a heavy stone has been placed across the opening to the grave. He is gone and there can no longer be any access to him. But for Jesus the stone is not a barrier, it is merely and obstacle. It can be overcome and moved if only we have faith. In the stories of the woman at the well and of the man born blind, we have heard and observed Jesus brining two people to faith. We have seen how through his signs and deeds he elicits from them a profession of faith drawn from within them. Even though in their lives they both seemed unlikely figures from which faith would be born, Jesus allows them to understand that through their encounter with him, his love and his mercy can be revealed within them and be the life source which brings them to their knowledge of God as a living presence for them. But now in the story of Lazarus, what we have placed before us is the great challenge of death, and the question for us becomes one which asks: can our faith deal with death and its aftermath?

Death is the ultimate obstacle to our faith. It is the great stone which stands thwarting our desire to commit. It is the great mystery which for many is the reason to abandon faith since death is the end of life, beyond which there is nothing. Remember man that you are dust and unto dust you shall return was what we were told on Ash Wednesday, and the graveside is the stark reminder of that. But here is Jesus standing at the graveside of the one he loved, and for whom he wept. The one who brought living water and the light of faith stands on the threshold of death at every graveside and asks us for faith just as he asked Mary and Martha. Jesus will be tested too, and he will overcome, and roll away the stone. “Lazarus come forth!” is the affirmation of faith as it resounds in our ears. As we move towards Holy Week and live out again the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus, let those words resonate once more and bring us forward in faith, to the glory of Easter.

Let there be light

Following on from last week when we considered the symbolism of water in connection with baptism, this week the gospel related the story of the man born blind. Here we observe the symbolism moving from water to light and the clear implication of this change is to express how through baptism we are enlightened by the sacramental encounter we have with Jesus. The words Jesus uses bring this idea into focus. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.

Note that we are told that the man had been blind from birth or in other words he was born blind, from the very beginning. It reminds us that in the beginning, God created the world when there was darkness over the deep. God’s first words were “Let there be light”, as if it is a moment of revelation, an opening up of the mind to understand the purpose and meaning of our lives. In the mind of the man born blind he was until this moment still living in darkness. It is by his coming to understanding that he is brought to a knowledge of the presence of God in the person of Jesus.

For each of us too, our coming to enlightenment in Christ through our baptism is an opening of our eyes. The light of Christ floods into our minds and we begin to see the world as the work of God’s hands. Notice how Jesus makes a paste from the earth, the “humus” and creates the man anew for him to see the true nature of himself as created in God’s image. At every baptism the paschal candle burns with the light of the Risen Christ. The newly baptised person, a new creation, receives a candle lit from the paschal candle, a light to be kept burning in their hearts as they take the first steps on their new journey.

This journey will not be without its challenges. We read how the man in the gospel was immediately challenged by those around him – indeed we are told they drove him away. We must have the courage and strength to withstand these challenges, to see them as moments of witness, when we are being asked to stand up for our faith and our beliefs. These moments can happen suddenly and without warning. They can come unexpectedly and out of the blue. Such moments can be overwhelming and can quite literally “blind” us as we struggle to understand and appreciate what has happened. It is in these moments, when the darkness may seem about to overcome our capacity to accept what has happened, that the light of world comes to bring up his revealing love to guide us through the shadows and to our home.

May the light of Christ dwell within us.

Refresh my Soul

Over the next three Sundays we have the three great Lenten readings of the
Woman at the Well, the Man born Blind and the Raising of Lazarus. Their themes of water, light and resurrection are intimately linked to the sacrament of Baptism, which our catechumens are preparing for at Easter. With the baptism liturgy as our guide, we will explore each theme over the three weeks beginning to day with water.

The sign and symbol of water is paramount to baptism and so as Jesus encounters the woman at the well it is the image of him bringing her to faith that provides the backdrop for our thoughts. Baptism is the gateway into faith and the road on which we travel. As the woman is drawn to the well, we can all understand the symbolism at work. The well becomes the baptismal font from which she will receive the water of new life. This water, blessed by the presence of Jesus, reminds us of the waters at the beginning of creation and over which the spirit of God hovered at the beginning. From this beginning all things come into being, created by God and given life.

It was at the baptism of Jesus in the River Jordan that the moment of revelation took place. At this moment the voice of the Father was heard: “This is my son, my favour rests on him”. In a similar and symbolic way the voice of the Father is spoken to the newly baptised as the emerge from their moment of revelation. The woman at the well responds to the words of Jesus and we are also called to respond in a similar way.

Through baptism we encounter the risen Christ in the sacramental life we have been born into. The water and blood which flows from the side of Christ, pierced by the lance when he was on the cross, is the symbol of this sacrament. Just as Eve was moulded from Adam’s side, so then the Church, the bride of Christ, is born from the blood and water which flows from the side of Jesus, the new Adam.

In the gospel of today, this symbolism is played out in all fulness. The woman comes to the well, to the font of life and is refreshed, so that now she will never thirst again. All that was her life before this moment is now put behind her, cleaned by the water of life. Her place within the community is no longer one which is exclusive but is now inclusive. What she has received, she now openly gives to others, to bring them to this moment too. She is an evangelist.

We pray for our catechumens as they prepare for their encounter with the Lord.