My Lord and My God

 

In many ways we are just like Thomas; aren’t we? We really don’t want to come by our faith second hand (John20:19-31). Our parents taught us that something worth having was something worth working for.  So we ask; is there really such a thing as “blind faith?” Blind faith does not encourage us to probe; it denies us the opportunity to question, to know what we believe intuitively, in our “core.” Blind faith requires minimal spiritual investment, and permits those inclined to cruise through their spiritual journey without the opportunity to really live life’s joy and danger. True faith requires knowing what we believe…beyond any doubt. So Thomas in refusing to say that he understood what he did not understand, or believe what he did not believe, exhibited an honesty that prompted his need to know. 

Thomas wasn’t the faithless doubter. The so-called faithful disciples remained locked up in the upper room hiding in fear. Fear not doubt gets in the way of our letting the Holy Spirit take charge. Where did Thomas go while others were in hiding? What prompted him to return to his community? Was Thomas “working” at trying to know what he was asked to believe? Thomas wanted the experience of a deeper vision or sight. He was unwilling to blindly accept; it had to be real for him. 

True faith is based on trust in God. True faith knows we can deepen our faith by asking critical questions of our traditions and our “inherited” belief propositions. We do this by leaving our comfort zones and living in new ways. Thomas’ encounter with the risen Lord challenges us to know what we believe so for us as, with Thomas, we too can personally acclaim “My Lord and my God.”

Easter is Our Sacrament

I suppose if we think of Easter as more of a sacrament and less a miracle, its impact would likely have a greater effect on modern man. The proclamation of a miracle excuses us from having anything further to do with it. A miracle is God’s doing. A sacrament, however, places a demand on us for its existence. God performs miracles but men celebrate sacraments. God may work a miracle even without faith and he may work it apart from men. Man, however, is essential to the presence of a sacrament. 

If Easter is to be a sacramental event, we must symbolize it for our fellow men, not only in the grace of God, but with our flesh and blood. Easter is sacramental every time one of us makes his life a source of light for his fellow man. Easter is sacramental when our words heal, when our hearts understand, when lesser values die in us for the sake of greater realities.

We are sacramental with Easter when men know us to be faithful. We are sacramental with Easter when our fellow men see us suffer not for selfish advantage but for their redemption. Easter is never more sacramental than when one man gives his life on behalf of another.

Christians seek to make Easter sacramental in their lives by their memory of Jesus. If Jesus is remembered, he has not died altogether. If the memory of Jesus inspires us to sacrificial love, Jesus is grace. Jesus is an Easter-maker.

Jesus became incarnate to not only teach us how to live our lives but to reside in Him through Jesus. When the priest says “in him through him and with him,” he’s reminding us of our participation in his birth, death and resurrection. (John 20:1-9)

Adapted from Anthony Padovano, Dawn Without Darkness

The Power of Love vs. The Love of Power

Every year the Roman army would come marching into Palestine during Passover. It was Pilate in the time of Jesus, who riding a white stallion, led the parade as a symbol of Rome’s dominance and oppression. It was a reminder to “nobodies” not to cause trouble during the Passover. So what does Jesus do? In a seemingly mocking parody, he rides a donkey (Luke 19:28-40), a lowly beast of burden in the opposite direction and enters through the gate from which Pilate exited. While Pilate needed a whole legion to demonstrate his importance and control, Jesus’ “power” was rooted in relationships and the everlasting love of God and in God’s desires for the good of the world and all its creatures. It was the power of love vs. the love of power on parade.

The gospel writers tell us that this event was not accidental. Jesus planned it ahead of time. He knew what he was doing and he knew he was risking the wrath of Rome by provoking the authorities. And eventually they caught up with him.

God did not plan Jesus’ death. God did not desire it. God did not need it for God’s salvation of the world and all its creatures to work out. So then, why the cross? 

The Cross was used by the Romans to not only destroy the identity of the one who was crucified, but to erase his mission and send a warning to any of his followers. Ironically reviled as an image, the cross became and endured as a central symbol for our faith…a symbol of a nobody who is resurrected. No one would expect a nobody to be resurrected. 

Contrary to some beliefs, Jesus was not ransomed for us, but rather, he takes our place, not for our sins, but for the trials of our human journey. We know and have known people like Gandhi, Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks, who at the very least put themselves at risk for the sake of others. This exchange is God standing with us as we face our reality and its dangers. God is in the midst of our human experience. 

The cross reminds us that our world is still a “risky” place, and that much will be asked of us. Yet it reminds us that death has no power over us because we live in the light of the resurrection of a nobody who was raised up as will we. The cross reminds us to stand up for those who need to be rescued and to stand with those who work for the common good even when it seems to be hopeless or dangerous. We can live in a time of trouble with joy.
 
Jesus challenged the love of power and lived for the power of love. Jesus was offering a different vision of how things could be, Palm Sunday asks us: which vision of power will rule our lives? To which kingdom will we belong? Which parade will we join? (Adapted from Parades and Crosses, Holy Textures, George Hermanson) 

...And Jesus Wept

As I read the Gospel for this upcoming Sunday, I thought about a friend who died a few months ago. We were out of the country and with limited internet or phone access. I awoke on Christmas Eve morning before dawn and as luck would have it, managed to get into my emails. My eyes went immediately to a forwarded message announcing the death of my friend. I sat motionless for a while in disbelief; then tears eventually became sobs as I felt the pain of loss. Then I thought about his young widow and children and felt their pain as I wondered how they were going to manage. I thought of my friends and considered their pain and felt completely helpless because I was so far away and I needed to be near them, not that my presence would have changed anything, but just being together and sharing our loss would at the very least, find comfort.

I suppose something about the account of Lazarus that I read (John 11:1-45) prompted me to relive this friend’s passing this morning. Is there any story as well-known as that of Lazarus? His very name has become a well-known metaphor for revival and resurrection beyond the realm of religion.

So why did I make the connection to the Lazarus story and the death of my friend? When Jesus saw her weeping and the Jews who had come with her weeping, he became perturbed and deeply troubled, and said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Sir, come and see.” And Jesus wept. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him.”
This Gospel speaks to us about many things but perhaps to me at least, at this time, I relate to the deep compassion Jesus had for Mary and Martha. The context of the word “compassion” as Jesus intended, I believe goes far beyond just “empathy.” It is virtually feeling the pain as if it was yours. Is there anything more human than the desire to want to help a loved one who is suffering? And while we wish we could take the pain from them and make it “all go away,” we cannot. Jesus in all his humanity wept. But Jesus in all his divinity was able to “make it better” and raise Lazarus from the dead.

So, what about why we feel as deeply as we do for another’s joy and pain. Father Ronald Haney writes in the God Within You that “the God of mystical unity and pervasive harmony, dwelling within each of you will intensify your love for each other, will raise your love to a level above mere human affection; it will make your love sacred, creative and curative. The love between you is God and this is the atmosphere of your relating to one another.” He goes on to say that if the love between you and others is God may sound too profound, it’s the essence of what Jesus meant when he said Love one another as I have loved you. Jesus was not just mincing words here.

Haney suggests that the mystery of the Divine Indwelling may be best expressed by the Pauline insight rooted in Jesus’ prayer, “just as you Father, live in me and I live in you, I am asking that they may live in us, that they may be one as we are one.” God Within You p 164