Christ’s resurrection ripples raise us up – 1 Cor 15:20-27, Lk 1:39-56 (Assumption)

Solemnity of the Assumption; St. Andrew's, Taunton.

Some things can’t help but spread.  Laughter would be one, hiccups definitely another.  True goodness is the same way, and that’s true in any field: the greatest musician isn’t the diva or divo who tuts about their accompanist’s tempo, but someone who makes everyone around them play better when they pick up their instruments; just as a great athlete doesn’t hog the ball, but raises the play of the whole team.  Virtue’s the same way too: the virtuous person is contagious with goodness and walks around lighting fires of zeal and coating everything with a soothing balm of hope and patience.  And if that’s what virtue does, then that’s what resurrection does too.  Resurrection is the fruit of the greatness of Christ’s love, it’s what happens when a human life was lived so perfectly, so holily, so virtuously that someone dared to love us enough not just to die for us, but loved us so much that not even death, death at our hands, could keep him from being with us.  The fiery furnace of Christ’s love erupts in resurrection.  And it spreads. It spreads to Mary, which is what our feast in particular celebrates today, and it spreads more broadly still; it spreads to us, which is what we celebrate at each and every Mass.

 

God is enough for our “much” – 1 Kings 19:4-8

 Nineteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year B; Chapel of Mary (Stonehill College).

Our first reading teaches us that, when things feel too much, sometimes what we need is a nap and a snack, and then everything’s OK. Well, kind of. I’ll get to why Elijah feels the way he does, and what God does about that, soon. But before going there, I want to sit a while with Elijah’s heartfelt, brutally honest prayer. And I don’t want to minimize the kind of pain he’s feeling, because properly attending to his pain will help us attend to our sisters and brothers in pain, and might even help us name and understand better our own.

 

God prays through us – Rom 8:22-27, John 7:37-39 (Pentecost Vigil)

 Pentecost Vigil; Basilica of the Sacred Heart.

I am the proud sponsor of a pipe. Not a pipe you smoke, or a pipe that carries water or oil, but a pipe of a pipe organ. A church I used to be a member of, long before I entered seminary, was installing a new pipe organ and, as part of the fundraising efforts, they offered the opportunity for people to pay to sponsor a pipe. Larger pipes were available for larger donations, and smaller ones for those with less resources. I was a student at the time, so I ended up sponsoring one of the higher-pitched E♭ flute pipes. Now, when I paid my money, there was an attached promise that not only would I get a certificate (which I got), but that when the organ was ready to be played, there would be an evening reception for all pipe-sponsors, at which we would be allowed play our pipe. As far as I know, that happened, but I’d already moved a long distance away, and never got to go.

 

God tends to our fruitfulness – John 15:1-8

 Fifth Sunday of Lent, Year B; Breen Philips Hall.

Last week, we heard from Jesus’ Good Shepherd speech in John. We heard Jesus say that he 100% commits to us, that we are His and He is ours, that He’s willing to suffer for us, to know rejection for us, and lead us on in our pilgrimage. Today, in this image of the vine and the branches, Jesus uses a different image to say a lot of the same things, but there are some different emphases.

The rejected Jesus commits to us – Acts 4:8-12, John 10:11-18

 Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year B; Breen-Philips Hall.

Press play, and you hear Antonio Cipriani sing in a beautiful yet subdued way, “That I would be good, even if I did nothing.” Then the melody passes to Celia Rose Gooding, who responds, “That I would be good, even if I got the thumbs down.” They continue alternating lines: “That I would be good, even if I got resentful; that I would be good, even if I gained ten pounds.” Lauren Patten then comes in with this plaintiff descant, “why won’t you accept who I need to be?,” as Antonio and Celia keep on alternating, before Lauren takes the melody and turns it up to eleven, coming in and belting out: “I need to know that I would be loved, even if I am my true self; that I would be good, even when I am overwhelmed.”

 

Jesus perfects our love – Luke 24:35-48; 1 John 2:1-5a

 3rd Sunday of Easter, Year B. Breen-Philips Hall.

Jesus, after his resurrection, appears in the midst of his disciples, and they’re terrified. So, Jesus wishes them peace. Not peace in the sense of having no conflict or struggle in their lives. In fact, he’ll soon send them out to witness to him knowing that that will mean martyrdom for most of them. No, Jesus wishes them the kind of peace in their hearts that will allow them to do that. The kind of peace in their hearts that will let them not be terrified to see him.

 

Christ breaks any barrier to be with us – Acts 4:32-35; John 20:19-21

 Sunday in the Octave of Easter, Year B; Breen-Philips Hall

We’ve had so long now of having to think about distance. The 6-foot wingspan touchdown Jesus reminds of one thing we need to do to keep one another safe. Distance, barriers… physical things we need right now, but I wonder if we’ve let them get a hold of parts of our spirits where they really don’t belong. I’m glad that Notre Dame tries to be consistent in its messaging in using the phrase “physical distancing” rather than “social distancing,” because it’s so important that we strive to remain socially connected, throughout this pandemic, throughout our lives. And being socially connected doesn’t just mean superficial interactions, but genuine, vulnerable, intimate friendships. And behind that lies spiritual connectedness. Keeping close to God, and allow our other relationships to feed and deepen that central relationship. Sometimes things that are hard feel too heavy to hold, and so we put up barriers and make distance in our spirits. We don’t let ourselves feel another’s pain, or even our own, we don’t offer that to God, let ourselves be inspired to act.