God commits to us – John 10:11-18

Fourth Sunday of Easter, Year B; St. Thomas More parish, Knebworth (UK)

The first assignment I give in my confirmation class, for 13-/ 14-year-olds, is to write a short essay about which virtue they most want to grow in, as they prepare for and receive this sacrament.  I was surprised when a full half of them wrote about courage.  The other half, by the way, were pretty evenly split between faith, hope and love.  The better I get to know 14 year olds, the more I wish they would work on prudence… but, no, courage was the virtue most of them wanted to grow in.  And they knew well what heroic exercises of that virtue look like, but that wasn’t what excited them the most.  They longed to be able to exercise a day-to-day courage, a courage that is gloriously mundane.  They wanted to be able to stand up for what was right when that wasn’t popular, to not go along with the crowd, to dare to confront a friend about something when they feared a hard conversation about something.  And the fear that held them back from doing that, was fear that if they dared stick out, then they wouldn’t belong, wouldn’t be accepted, would be stranded from the flock.

Announcement I made after all Masses this weekend

Some of you may know that I was originally sent here on a two year assignment.  Well, you've all been putting up with me for almost two years now, and our Provincial Superior has announced that my assignment here will not be renewed.  So, I'll be moving on this summer.  I won't be going too far: just a couple of miles up the road to Notre Dame.  I'll be spending next year applying to PhD programs in New Testament, taking some classes to help me prepare and helping out a little on campus.

It's been our discernment for a while that I'm called to serve the Church and the world as a priest through scholarship and teaching.  I asked to begin my ordained life in a parish context, as I thought that would be a wonderful context in which to have priesthood first drawn out of me.  It has been.  I will leave with a lot of gratitude for all that has happened here.  These parish communities will always have a very special place in my heart, and I will continue to hold you all in prayer, and I ask you to do the same for me.

One final note: on Monday, I leave for a couple of weeks vacation.  I don't want you to hear I'm not around and think that I announced my departure and then right away packed my bags!  I'll be back in a couple of weeks, through the end of our parish school year and a little bit beyond, but then I'll move up the road.

Thank you.

Jesus turns fear through peace to love – John 20:19-31, 1 John 5:1-6

3rd Sunday of Easter, Yr B; Holy Cross - St. Stan's.

Our gospel begins with Jesus’ closest disciples having just heard about his appearance on the road to Emmaus.  We don’t really hear what their reaction was.  Maybe they don’t even have time to stop and realize for themselves how they’re reacting, because right then and there, Jesus appears in their midst.  And they’re terrified.  Which means they don’t get it.  Whatever their heads are doing, their hearts are not quite yet ready to receive their Lord; to receive the good news that his love for them, for us, is stronger than death, the good news that he longs to be with us,just as strongly as he longs to be with his heavenly father, so will act to bring us to eternal heavenly life, acting to sanctify us to the point that we can live heavenlily.  It’s the most extravagant, outrageous good news ever.  And it’s no surprise that after the trauma they’ve been through, they’re not ready to receive it.  They react to the coming of their Lord with fear.

Jesus opens the door to peace – John 20:19-31, 1 John 5:1-6

2nd Sunday of Easter; Holy Cross parish.

The disciples have locked themselves in a room.  They’re frightened.  And they have cause for fear!  Their lord and master had spoken to them of the persecution to come, and they’d seen what that looked like, they’d seen how it played out against his very flesh, and Peter had seen what would come from association with those that imperial power condemned.  So, they had every reason to be afraid.  It was entirely rational.  But, Jesus has better than that.  The law of love trumps the cold rationality of fear; perfect love casts out fear.

Jesus unwraps and unveils for us – John 20:1-9

Easter Sunday; St. Stanislaus parish.

Do you how much Americans spent on gift wrap last year?  Well, neither do I.  In the busy-ness of this week, the most recent data I could find was from 2010, when this country spent 9.36 billion dollars on gift wrap.  That’s over $30 each.  And gift wrapping isn’t a purely modern or uniquely American phenomenon.  The earliest reference to it is 2200 years old, and comes from China.  Why do we do it?  Why do we wrap presents, or to take an example that might be more timely: hide eggs?  There’s something very humane about the wrapping of gifts.  Somehow, the giving and, more importantly, receiving of a gift is made even more joyful when it’s wrapped.

Jesus restores us to life – John 18:1-19:42

Good Friday; Holy Cross - St. Stanislaus parish.

He came at night.  Judas came at night, with lamps and torches.  He had walked out on the Light of the World incarnate, to live in darkness.  He’d exchanged the Light of Salvation for lamps and torches, meager hope to illumine a cold, dark world.  Jesus had longed and had acted to set his heart aflame with burning zeal and fiery love, and he couldn’t take it.  It was too much, too daring: to entrust one’s heart to a man walking to his death, to one who calls us to a love as brilliant as his, a love that would love unto death, a love the darkness could not overcome, but could not comprehend either.  So he trades it in, for lamps and torches, barely enough to put the darkness at bay long enough to stumble to the garden of betrayal.