God shakes our world – Matt 28:1-10

To complete my series on the Seven Sorrows of Mary, I closed with the resurrection.

After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb.  And, behold, there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord had come down from heaven.  The angel came and rolled away the stone, and then he sat upon it.  His countenance was like lightning and his clothing white as snow.  The guards quaked with fear and became like corpses.

The angel spoke to the women:  “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are seeking Jesus who was crucified.  He is not here, for he was raised just as he said.  Come, see the place where he laid.  And now, go, tell his disciples that he has been raised from the dead, and he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him.  See, I have told you.”

Immediately, they went away from the tomb with fear and great joy.  They ran to tell his disciples.  Jesus appeared right to them, met them and said:  “Rejoice!”  They went up to him and grasped him by the feet and bowed down in homage to him.  Then, Jesus said to them: “Do not be afraid.  “Go, tell my brothers to go away to Galilee, and there they will see me.”

~~

Back when I still lived in California, there was a Bible study I’d go to in the rectory of nearby church.  One day, we were discussing some passage and as I was explaining how some aspect of it struck me, suddenly everything jolted.  My first, unthinking instinctive reaction was: “someone’s done an emergency stop.”  Then, I remembered we weren’t in a car… we were in the rectory, and rectories don’t do emergency stops.  It was an earthquake.  Not one that caused any real damage, but enough to jolt us, to spill people’s drinks, to make me joke that God maybe didn’t like that interpretation I’d just offered.  Enough to remind me that the earth we instinctively think of as solid and ultimately dependable is neither of those things.

God blesses us and bequeaths us as blessers – 1 Pet 3:8-9

1 Pet 3:8-9; Moreau Lucenarium.

Imagine you missed out on a great night out last night.  All your friends had an amazing banquet and raised their cups several times in toasts.  But, you knew there’d be toasts to the gods so you didn’t go.  Since becoming a Christian, your social life has really suffered.  And it’s not just that, or that your old friends think you’ve gone crazy for thinking that a crucified Jew could have come back for the dead, they think you’re selfish and mean-spirited because you won’t offer meat to be sacrificed to the local deity.  At times even you wonder if this year’s harvest will be that much worse because of you. Every time you go to the market (which you’re not really sure you should be at anyway, because of all the idols on display), people look at you funny, you’re sure whispering behind your back is about you and occasionally an insult does reach your ears.  And the Christians who welcomed you?  They don’t live like the teacher said they would: they bicker, they’re proud.

God acts extravagantly, but in secret

That last of the seven sorrows of Mary: laying Jesus' body in the tomb.

Nicodemus, who had first come to Jesus by night, came carrying a mixture of myrrh and aloes weighing about 100 pounds.

Then, they took the body of Jesus and bound it with linen and with the spices.

This is the burial custom of the Jews.

There was in the place where he was buried a garden

and in the garden a new tomb, in which no-one had been placed.

There then, because it was the day of preparation of the Jews, and because the tomb was near,

they placed Jesus.

~~

He had come at night to see the Light of the World.  Nicodemus wanted to keep his interest in Jesus secret, so he went to see him at night to ask his questions about how to enter the kingdom of God.  Now the secret is out: a respected member of the Sanhedrin, Nicodemus can’t have been a young man and must have struggled to carry 100 pounds of ointment up a hill.  The sight must have seemed almost comic, almost pathetic as he tottered along struggling with this heavy load.  He certainly can’t have been moving quickly, covertly or even inconspicuously.  Everyone would now know that he was off to do something extravagant.

God shows his love for us even when all we see is gruesome – Mk 15:42-45

Continuing my Old College series on the the Seven Sorrows of Mary with taking the body down from the cross.

As it had already become late, since it was the day of Preparation (before the Sabbath),

Joseph of Arimathea, an honored member of the council who was also waiting for the kingdom of God,

Dared to go to Pilate and ask for the body of Jesus.

Pilate was amazed that he was already dead and called to the centurion and asked him if Jesus had already died.

When he had found that out from the centurion, he granted the body to Joseph.

~~

How do you have hope, when all you have is a dead body?  When you see suffering, when you see the marks of thorns, nails, whips, and you feel their effect in the graying stiffening smelling corpse that’s all you have left, how can you have hope?  When you know that on a deeper level than physical causes of death, that the real cause was human hands, the hands of sinners, created in the image and likeness of God but fallen… just like you, how do you have hope?

What is a homily?

Fall break gives me two weekends free of preaching, and I didn't want to leave this blog fallow for that long, so here's an article I once wrote to answer the question in the title: "What is a homily?"

At Mass, you are told to lift up your hearts.  God wants your hearts uplifted; He wants them on fire with the love in which and for which you were created.  If this command is given at Mass, there must be some means provided by which you may be formed (or, better, re-formed) into creatures who have their hearts lifted to their Creator.  He must be trying to lift your hearts.  The aim of the Eucharistic homily is to enable your hearts to be lifted.

God in His holiness forgives us – Hos 11:1-6, 8-9

Hosea 11:1-6, 8-9; Morning Prayer at Old College Retreat on the Sacred Heart.  I used the NABRE translation, because it's a very hard passage to translate and I didn't have time to do it myself.  I did re-translate a few things, including nehpak ("[my heart] was overwhelmed") to "overthrown."

Hosea knew what it meant for a city to be overthrown.  He knew what it looked like for enemy forces to outflank troops, to press hard and conquer.  He lived most of his life threatened by exile and slavery at Assyrian hands, living among a people that had imposed the same on others.  When he talked about something being overthrown he knew what kind of violent destruction he was talking about.  When he says that God’s heart is overthrown, that’s not throw away language.

Jesus brings us back to God’s creative love –Mark 10:2-12.

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B).  Homily for Liturgical Celebration class.  The practice context was a parish where I didn't know anyone, having been asked to substitute for a pastor on vacation.

“Go back to the beginning… how did this all start?”  When something that was meant to be wonderful starts to taste bitter, that can be just the question to ask.  What was it that so exited me and led me to begin this course of study, to play on this team, to take this job… to marry this person?  How can I bring that initial fervor to life again, in the more mature way that’s needed to deal with our more seasoned problems or our creeping ennui?