Sixth Sunday of Easter, cycle B

John 15:9 - 17

I wonder if sometimes we miss the point about what Jesus is telling us.  Today he makes it very clear that just as he keeps his father’s commandments and remains in his love, so we are to keep his commandment if we are to remain in his love.  And his commandment is simple:  Love one another as I love you.  

In another part of the gospels Jesus tells the crowds that each person is called to love his neighbor as himself, and he tells the story of the Good Samaritan to illustrate what that means.  But I think there is a difference between loving each other as Jesus loves his disciples, and loving one’s neighbor as oneself.  

If I am a healthy human being, I love myself.  I see that I’m well fed, get enough rest, take care of my health -- in other words, I try to optimize my life.  And there’s nothing wrong with that.  We are chock full of instincts that work to that end.  So Jesus tells the crowds, love your neighbor that way.  See to it your neighbors are given what they need to be fully alive, to at least have the opportunity to become what God wants for them.  And while it’s true that the Good Samaritan used his resources directly to help the half-dead stranger he met on the road, you love your neighbor as yourself in other ways as well -- donating to charity, working for justice -- and in a way this sort of activity is a force multiplier -- you can do more by pooling your resources with others, and that is loving your neighbor; and if you won’t rest until your neighbor has all the good things that you do, then that is loving your neighbor as yourself.  You are the measure of when you’ve loved enough.  

But in today’s gospel Jesus is telling his friends, his disciples, something slightly different.  They are to love each other as he has loved them.  And that is loving them enough to lay down his life for them.  And he’s not telling them to go out and do that for the stranger by the side of the road; he’s telling them to be prepared to do that for each other, for the members of the little community that he’s formed -- a gathered community.  The fishermen, the tax collector, the revolutionary, the guy who takes care of the group’s money -- I don’t know what each of the apostles did for a living other than that, but legend has it that Thomas was a carpenter, like Jesus; and Bartholomew may have been a scribe.  And I suspect if they hadn’t  been gathered by Jesus, except for the fishermen they probably would have had nothing to do with each other.  

We are a gathered community, in much the same way the apostles were.  We have been gathered together by Jesus, into this parish family.  And I think Jesus calls us to love each other in a deeper, more self-giving way than we are called to love people who aren’t part of this community.  That’s where supernatural love gets involved.  Because human beings like to hang around people like themselves; we are most comfortable in that situation.  And if we had to lay down our life we’d do it for a child, a parent, a spouse, maybe a best friend, but for the person who sits four pews over on Sunday that we’ve nodded at during the sign of peace?  Not so much.  And yet I think that’s what Jesus is calling us to do.  It’s the way the first Christians lived.  They held everything in common; when one was imprisoned the others would visit, even at the risk of their lives.  When one became sick, others would tend to that person, even risking catching whatever horrible disease was killing her. If someone lost a spouse, they were there for them.  And they would willingly go to their deaths rather than betray their fellow Christians; some of the early martyrs were tortured to give up the names of their fellow believers, but resisted unto death.  

That’s the kind of love we believe exists in the Trinity-  where God is pure love.  The Father empties himself out, holding back nothing, to generate the Son.  The Son gives himself up for the Father out of love; and the love between them is the Holy Spirit, love without limit.  

But Jesus wanted that kind of love between his followers for a very practical reason as well; it was what spread the kingdom that he began in the world.  And it did; the pagans looked and saw how these Christians loved each other, and many of them wanted a community like that for themselves and the Church exploded in terms of growth.  Jesus saves us through the church he founded, and our parish is the local embodiment of his universal church.  

It’s not easy to love each other as Jesus loved us and gave up his life for us.  It’s not easy to love people who under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have much to do with.  But face it, our Catholic church is not growing, it’s shrinking.  But imagine how it would be if our neighbors in Longmeadow looked at our parish and said, “See how those Christians love each other!”  That is the real challenge.  We did not choose Jesus, he chose us and appoints us to go and bear fruit that will last, and that will come about when we love each other enough to give up our lives if it came to that.  

Fifth Sunday of Easter, cycle B

John 15:1 - 8

We have a Japanese Maple tree in our back yard.  It has leaves that are sort of dark orange in color; it’s bent over in a very untreelike shape, and it seems to thrive, because every year my wife, who has learned not to trust me near her favorite plants, tells me that I should trim this tree -- and I mean, really trim it.  So I do.  I get rid of most of the branches until it looks dead.  And here it is spring, and the tree is thriving, sending out new branches, bursting with more leaves.  And I know I’ll have to trim it in the fall, as always.  Pruning the maple tree is one image that comes to mind when I read this passage.  Another comes to mind as well.  Recently my wife and I visited Sedona, Arizona, where we once again saw the chapel of the Holy Cross built into the beautiful landscape.  The crucifix is unique; Jesus is hanging from a tree with branches that seem to grow out of him.  

The image Jesus presents us in this familiar passage of the vine and the branches is radical.  We think of ourselves as members of our church; we could be members of other communities as well, and many of those who used to be members of Saint Mary’s have gone elsewhere for various reasons, just as we have people in our parish who would normally be in other parishes.  That’s kind of an American thing -- we like to keep our options open, we belong to organizations at arms-length, even our church. But Jesus is talking about a different kind of belonging; an organic unity.  Jesus is identifying himself with the church to which we belong; and when the Father trims away fruitless branches, and cleans up the fruitful ones, these are painful actions on Jesus’ own body.  You can’t escape the vine grower’s trimming knife whether you are fruitful or not; if you are fruitful, he’ll want more fruit from you.  Just check with any random saint.  

Jesus is speaking to us when he says “remain in me”.  That’s probably not the best translation of the Greek word.  It used to be translated as “abide” but we don’t use that word much anymore. Some other meanings include “dwell”, “stay”, “endure”, and “continue”.  I think the last two words are probably better. They imply that we are connected to Jesus, and we need to actively deepen that connection, not be neutral about it. 

I am reading an interesting book by Daniel Taylor, called “The skeptical believer”.  He traces his own faith journey; he grew up in a fundamentalist church, eventually became disenchanted with what he saw as real contradictions between what he was being taught in church and what he was learning in college; and he dropped out for a while.  He began going to a more mainstream denomination after he met his wife, but he talks about his “inner atheist” which was always doubting, always questioning.  He plunged more deeply into reading scripture and the writings of the fathers of the Church and concluded that a lot of very religious people were like him -- they had an inner voice that questioned everything, and that held them back from commitment.  He then decided that the thing was not to worry about what he couldn’t prove, as long as it was reasonable; and to see himself as part of a story that was unfolding.  In other words, he chooses to be part of the story, or world-view, that Jesus had.  He says that if he is wrong, he’ll never know, but if he is right, the reward is infinite.  I think Jesus is daring his disciples to be like that -- to draw closer and closer to him, to learn more and more about him, to deliberately go out and bear fruit, and invite the Father to prune you so that you can bear even more.

What in your life is keeping you from bearing fruit?  What is keeping you from committing totally to the vision that Jesus gave his followers?  There isn’t much time; the vine grower is deciding whether to cut off this branch or trim it back so it can bear more fruit.  

Fourth Sunday of Easter, cycle B

John 10:11 - 18

How many of you listened to the gospel about the good shepherd and thought about the picture of Jesus dressed in a white robe, neatly groomed, carrying a quiet little lamb around his neck?  Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.  And that’s what we generally conclude from the idea of Jesus as the good shepherd.  He is always there to rescue us, to console us, to keep us clean and well-fed and protect us from wolves.  

But we know some things about lost sheep.  In places where there is a lot of wide open space and sheep herding, lost sheep will sometimes find each other and travel around together, because they are social animals.  A leader will emerge, one who is bigger and stronger and more aggressive than the  rest.  Of course the leader gets the lion’s share of what to heat and other privileges; but in truth the whole little tribe suffers.  You wouldn’t know they are always hungry by looking at them; they tend to look a lot fatter than the sheep overseen by the shepherd.  That’s because domestic sheep never stop growing wool.  But that’s a liability, because without someone to take care of it, the wool becomes very heavy and the sheep is in danger of overheating; and a good rainstorm can soak into the wool and make it almost impossible for the sheep to move around.  A domestic sheep is just smart enough to recognize the voice of the shepherd and respond to a few simple commands.  Being in the wild for a week or two will be enough for the sheep to forget all that, so even if the shepherd finds the sheep, it will be like domesticating a wild animal again -- not easy.

You can see why Jesus compared his followers to sheep.  And we can look around and see that as well.  We are here in church for various reasons -- some because it’s what we always do on the weekend; others because somewhere they fear what will happen if they stop going; and still others because they are hoping God won’t zap them if they keep following the rules.  And of course we are all here because at some level we know this is where heaven meets earth, where God begins to feed his faithful from the heavenly banquet.  But there are a lot of Catholics who aren’t here, and show up every now and then for a baptism, wedding or funeral, or maybe one of the Christmas masses.  And the Catholics who are dropping out are increasing, and the Catholics that are now identifying as something else are increasing.  And people in the broader society look at our church and see no reason to consider becoming Catholics; and many of our children look at the behavior of their parents and see no reason to stay in the Church.  And being “spiritual but not religious” seems more and more attractive; you go where your heart leads you, unbound by rules, because in the end, all that matters is that you are a good person.

Sheep that follow their shepherd know one thing -- that the shepherd can be trusted.  They know from experience that they will be fed, watered and protected and cared for.  It isn’t always fun; sometimes when the shepherd makes you get up and move to a different pasture, not fun.  When the shepherd shears the wool off of your body, that’s not pleasant.  When you have cuts and bruises and the shepherd disinfects your wounds, that burns.  But you get up and keep following him, because you trust.

But I think there’s something in every sheep that wants to be free; that’s why they wander off.  But if they survive sooner or later they will be found by the shepherd or will join a wild flock of sheep, because sheep need someone to follow.  

Jesus is the good shepherd.  But all of us participate in Jesus and in his ministry.  This weekend we pray for vocations -- and we in our church today are desperate for priestly vocations and we could certainly use vocations to the religious life.  And I can’t forget vocations to the diaconate -- which for married deacons becomes a vocation for the wife as well -- because I’m getting old and hoping someone in this parish will consider becoming part of the class of 2027, which will be selected in the next few months.  But because we all participate in the ministry of Jesus, we all have a vocation, first of all to call back those who have strayed, second, to call those who are not of this flock, and third, to encourage young people to consider a church vocation.  And yes, we do this by leading the kind of life that attracts people, but how about inviting others to come back to church? 

You probably know someone, or maybe even some family, who are Catholics who don’t attend Sunday mass anymore.  Here’s a suggestion.  INvite them to come to Mass with you and go out to breakfast together afterward.  It’s an opportunity to criticize  the pastor and the deacon and the choir after all, which makes for great fun.  Here’s another; think of someone who has dropped out and make it a point to fast for them along with praying specifically for them to return to the church.  IF you have a favorite saint, get him or her to help.  Ask your guardian angel to talk to his or her angel, and get involved in getting him or her back to church.  Storm heaven.  And maybe do the same thing if you notice a young man who would make a good priest, or a young lady who could do so much good as a woman religious.  You may be a sheep -- I certainly am, in the worst possible way -- but I’d like our flock to increase, and the good shepherd lives in me, and this weekend let us make a resolution to take on a little of the good shepherd’s ministry ourselves.  

Third Sunday of Easter, cycle B

John 24:35 - 48

I ran across an article recently which asked the question, “If you could be in heaven right now for an hour and visit with just one person, who would that be?”  It’s a good question.  I’m sure some people would name a favorite saint, and most would  think about a parent or a loved one.  But to pick out just one?  What would be our standards?  How could we choose?”

I gave myself that test.  All of my relatives of my parent’s generation are there, hopefully.  But I don’t feel a strong need to talk with Mom or Dad or Uncle Paul; I assume that if I get to heaven for real I’ll spend eternity talking or not talking with them, whatever makes us happy.  I have a couple of cousins who have passed on.  Same deal.  As far as Saints are concerned, Ihave my favorites, but there again, what is the urgency?  And then after a great deal of thought, I tentatively picked out one person -- my grandmother on my dad’s side.  She and I were very close.  She was the only daughter of a protestant Scottish coal miner and his fresh from Ireland catholic wife -- the product of a mixed marriage when that was almost unthinkable.  Her four brothers went into the mines as well and like their dad, met early deaths from lung disease.  Grandma put herself through nursing school at a time when that was only slightly more respectable than working in a dance hall.  She married a real honest to goodness cowboy who eventually gave up alcohol for her -- only to take it up again the afternoon of her funeral.  And she was an avid reader and seemed to have reasonable answers for every question I could ask when I was growing up.

I got a call during medical school that they didn’t expect her to live after she had undergone a cancer operation.  I left my wife and our daughter and returned to Montana to spend a few hours at her bedside as she drifted in and out of consciousness.  I said goodbye and returned to Stanford; she died a few days later.  I didn’t go to the funeral.

Death doesn’t become real to any of us when we are kids or even young adults.  There is a moment for each of us when we suddenly realize, deep in our bones, that we are mortal, that we are going to die, that we can’t do a thing about that.  The death of my grandmother was that moment for me.  The world had changed radically, and I’ve been preparing to die ever since.  So I’d love to spend an hour with her -- it would definitely take the edge off of my fear of death.

That’s what happens in today’s gospel.  Jesus takes the edge off of the fear of death that is in each of his apostles -- indeed in each human being who has gone through that life-changing moment when they realize they are mortal.  And the only way this could have happened is if they were totally convinced that the person standing in front of them was the same one they had spent three years with, the same one that died on the cross.  A ghost couldn’t do that -- you can hallucinate a ghost, and a ghost by definition is not the person it might represent.  And the resurrection was not wishful thinking, or some other myth we could tell our unbelieving friends.  Luke -- and the other gospel writers -- make clear that the tomb which had contained a dead body is now empty; and that Jesus had to tell Mary Magdalene to let go of him; and that he picked up bread and broke it in his two hands; and that he ate some fish because his body was hungry and could digest the fish; and that he bore the wounds of his crucifixion and dared Thomas to touch them.  And in the last appearance recorded by John, he made breakfast for them.  The apostles were convinced; they never looked back, even to the point of giving up their lives -- because Jesus had taken the edge off of the fear of death that was in them.  

Do I still fear death?  On some level, sure.  I’m human.  Even Jesus feared death, otherwise he wouldn’t be human.  He begged his Father to let the cup pass from him.  When we read that statement of his it seems so calm and resigned; but when you read the story carefully, he didn’t say it just once; he prayed intensely for a significant length of time -- long enough for the apostles to doze off twice.  

And he invites you and I when he says, “Touch me and see, because a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you can see I have.”  The proof of the Resurrection, the real physical resurrection, is there in the pages of scripture and what came after, in the lives of the apostles and indeed over the next two thousand years.  Some people who knew death had been conquered went to their own deaths cheerfully -- reluctantly, yes; aware of pain, sure -- but believing that if God could raise Jesus from death to life, and if Jesus promised the same for his followers, then he can certainly do that for you and I.  The Resurrection is God’s promise that all that is a consequence of our sin and mortality will be made right; you and I and our loved ones will live again.

My faith needs  the Resurrection.  As Saint Paul said, “If Christ were not raised, then your faith is in vain, and you are still in your sins”.  Without the Resurrection, we Christians are fools.  And the world needs the Resurrection.  And Jesus tells us in this gospel today, “You are witnesses of these things.”  So pray that you will be a witness of these things by your own conviction that Jesus rose from the dead and lives even now. 

Second Sunday of Easter, cycle B (Mercy Sunday)

John 20:19 - 31

I got confirmed in the seventh grade, back before Vatican II.  We had to select confirmation names, and I had been told that Thomas Aquinas was the greatest theologian the church had ever produced, so that seemed like a cool name.  But as the years went by I identified more with Thomas the apostle, who gets to be called “Doubting Thomas” because of this story in the gospel of John,  Every year, every single year, Catholics and many other Christians rub it in on the first Sunday after Easter.  But we will get to why I identify with him later.

But I have to defend Thomas.  Jesus has appeared to the other disciples -- came in through a locked door at that.  The Gospel of Luke tells us that he even asked for a piece of fish; conquering sin and death takes a lot out of you.  And Jesus gives the apostles power -  to forgive sins! And he gives them his own holy Spirit and sends them forth.  And a week later, they tell Thomas about this, all excited of course -- and Thomas, who is no slouch, notices that they are still in the locked room.  Why should he believe them?  Why would you believe them?  They aren’t doing what they claim Jesus told them to do.  And I think that’s one thing we can take home today.  It isn’t the fault of our friends, or our children, or our co-workers that they are falling away from the church, it’s ours.  They look at what we are saying and they don’t see that we’ve been set on fire, they hear our proclamation that Christ is risen and death is defeated and God’s mercy is available for the taking, and we live as though these are only words.  Jesus told us that if we were his disciples the world would hate us, because it hated him first.  Are we hated?  Not really.  

But notice another thing about this passage.  Thomas believes when Jesus joins the disciples.  We are imperfect, we are sinners, we are really useless servants … but there is hope, because where two or three are gathered together, Jesus is there.  And with Jesus things can be accomplished that can’t be done without him.  And Jesus promised to be with his followers till the end of time, and Thomas and the others spread the gospel throughout the Roman empire and into India and Persia -- all within those first hundred years -- and they suffered and died for the gospel as well, because they knew Jesus was with them, just as he is with us if we are doing what he calls us to do -- to evangelize, to preach the gospel, to be conscious at all times of our role in bringing about the kingdom of heaven.  Jesus told us to “pray always” and that’s what he is talking about.  

And there is still another thing to notice in this passage.  Thomas, like the others, had witnessed the crucifixion of Jesus.  Not up close, but from far off, or maybe he heard it from a reliable witness, I don’t know.  And I don’t know why he wasn’t with the apostles at that first appearance of Jesus.  But I’m sure all his hopes were dashed, I’m sure he was broken-hearted, I’m sure he doubted.  And you know, I doubt sometimes myself.  I’ve gone through spells where I wonder if there’s a god at all, or whether my faith is just wishful thinking.  My faith blows hot and cold.  But Thomas teaches us that the best place to be when you doubt is among believers.  If you crawl away by yourself you can sink into despair, or even worse, indifference; but if you stay with believers, and live like a believer, your faith will come back, your doubts will disappear.  Everyone’s faith grows in fits and starts, but only when you keep in contact with the believing community.  

But doesn’t Jesus himself condemn Thomas’ unbelief? The trouble with the words Jesus speaks to Thomas is that they don’t convey what the Greek words mean, exactly.  The word that is translated as “blessed” is “makarios” which can also be translated as “happy” or “to be envied”.  So Jesus issort of saying “you, Thomas, like the other apostles, have believed because you have seen me.  Be envious of those who believe who have not seen me.”  In other words, those who believe who have not seen have been given a special grace, they are, in a sense, favored by God.  You and I have been given that grace at baptism.  Whether we choose to use it or not is as always up to us; God leaves us completely free.  But we are exposed to the truths of our faith; Our  theologians and philosophers have shown us that those truths are reasonable; our saints have shown us that they are life-giving; our martyrs have shown us that they are worth dying for.  That’s why we are the ones that the apostles envy.

Mercy Sunday.  Doubting Thomas.  The forgiveness of sins by God through the ministry of our priests.  Being sent forth by Jesus himself.  Being accompanied by Jesus whenever we undertake something to bring about his kingdom.  Being recipients of the Body and Blood of our Saviour; being the souls in whom the Father and Son come to dwell, and the Holy Spirit animates.  We are indeed to be envied.  

Easter Sunday, cycle B

John 20:1 - 9

Today’s gospel is from the gospel of John, and describes the discovery of the empty tomb.  The four gospels are fairly consistent in that -- that the realization of the Resurrection of Jesus began in the dark, with a woman or women discovering an empty tomb.  We see Mary Magdalene running to tell Peter and “the disciple Jesus loved” and they in turn run to the tomb.  Although the disciple Jesus loved gets there first, he waits.  But he witnesses the burial cloths neatly folded up.  Peter goes into the tomb and ses the same thing.  The story is straightforward and doesn’t present much in the way of difficulty, until you get to the last two sentences:  “Then the other disciple also went in, the one who had arrived at the tomb first, and he saw and believed.  For they did not yet understand the Scripture that he had to rise from the dead.”  Do you get the feeling something is missing here?  If you do, you aren’t alone.  What is it that the beloved disciple believed?  Saint Augustine said he believed what Mary Magdalene had told them, that the body had been taken from the tomb.  I guess that makes sense, but why didn’t the author say that Peter believed it as well?  It isn’t a big stretch if you are staring at the evidence.  Saint John Chrysostom thinks that the beloved disciple had a supernatural infusion of grace so that he believed in the resurrection.  But why go on and say they did not yet understand the scriptures?  Why not, “They finally understood the scriptures..”   There are a couple of ancient copies of the gospel where the writer made sense of it by putting the word “not” in there -- the beloved disciple did not believe.  And then there is a fourth possibility, suggested by still another translator -- the beloved disciple believed that Jesus had returned to the father, as he had predicted -- but didn’t understand that he would be returning to the earth in bodily form.  Professor Scott Hahn tells us that when we come to one of these kinds of passages, it’s a speed bump; It’s supposed to wake us up, make us pay attention.

If you’ve ever seen pictures of the Last Supper, you see a young man sitting next to Jesus, or reclining by Jesus’ side.  That’s the beloved disciple, the one who asks Jesus which of the apostles is going to betray him?  Does it surprise you to know that the majority of scripture scholars don’t think this person is the apostle John?  I won’t go into all the reasons for this, but one of the most popular alternative ideas is that the beloved disciple mentioned only in John and never given a name is the gospel writer’s invitation to his readers to be present in the events starting with the last supper and ending on the shores of the lake of Galilee after the resurrection; in other words, the gospel writer has given his readers a sort of first century stations of the cross.  

And that idea is appealing to me.  As John unfolds the story, you and I are there.  We hear Jesus at the last supper predict to us that Judas will betray him; we are the ones to whom he offers his mother -- making us his brothers and sisters.  We are the ones who believe in the Resurrection before even Jesus’ closest friends do; and we are the ones about whom Jesus says to Peter, “If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you?  Follow me.” and the text goes on to say, it is this disciple who is bearing witness to these things … and his testimony is true.” 

If we are Christians, one of our fundamental beliefs is that we will rise from the dead, not as ghosts, not in the memory of our loved ones, but in a new and improved body, a real body, like Jesus had.  That is an astounding belief when you think about it.  You could argue all day with a disbeliever and never convince that person from the evidence we have that this is a fact.  As far as we can tell from a purely scientific point of view, when you are dead, you are dead.  But you and I are told to believe in the resurrection of the body on the word of Jesus, and belief, in the writings of the New Testament, always means more than simply agreeing with a factual statement.  And belief in the resurrection of the dead, in my own resurrection after I die, is no different.  If I am going to rise again, it really matters what I do during this lifetime.  If I am going to rise, so will my worst enemy, so I better not have any.  If I am going to rise, so is that person on the street pushing a shopping cart full of her earthly belongings, and we will meet someday, and Abraham may say, my child, you had the good things during your life, and now it is her turn.  And I will meet all those lives snuffed out by abortion who will ask, you could have made it possible for me to become a saint.  We believe in the Resurrection; do we believe in it enough to die for it, as so many of our ancestors in the faith did?

And that’s what I think happened in this gospel scene; the beloved disciple believed.  And like the beloved disciple, because we are all beloved disciples, we are the ones who have to bear witness by our lives that the resurrection of Jesus is real, and our own resurrections will be real as well.  

Palm Sunday cycle B 2021

Mark 11:1 – 10, 14:1 – 15 ;47

There’s a lot to digest in the gospel readings today.  You notice that our readings more or less began with Jesus triumphantly entering Jerusalem, and ending with his horrible death on the cross.  And in a way, that reflects part of the journey of faith, a journey that ends in Resurrection, but on the way, there are moments of trump and moments of deepest doubt.  

Think of Peter -- Jesus some time ago designated him as the one who would be the rock of the Church.  Peter was one of the first called to be an apostle.  He had emerged as the spokesman for the apostles, and indeed the leader.  And now it seemed as though the fact that he had left all to follow Jesus was finally being vindicated.  As they entered Jerusalem, the crowds were wild.  They were greeting Jesus like a conquering hero.  Jesus wasn’t the first person to be welcomed with palms and clokes thrown on the floor.  That was indeed the way a general who had won a great victory was welcomed.  And Peter basked in the glow, his faith certain.  

And at the last supper, when Jesus predicted that his disciples would abandon him, he was the first to insist that even if everyone else left him, he would never leave him.  Peter’s faith was strong.  

And then Peter falls asleep in the garden of Gethsemane, not once, but three times, if we are to believe the gospel story.  It’s a hint of what is to come.  Peter’s strong faith isn’t enough to keep his eyes open.  Don’t you feel like that sometimes?  You want to pray, you want to do what God is calling you to do, but your body and nature and the press of other things conspire to hold you back.  Peter can’t stay awake.

And at the arrest of Jesus, Peter leaps to defend Jesus.  In the other gospels we learn that he has a sword and cuts off the ear of the servant of the high priest.  But the force is overwhelming and Peter and the others flee, leaving behind the young man who follows the arresting party for a bit, then runs away naked when they attempt to arrest him as well.  

And finally that terrible scene in the courtyard; “You were with him!” says the servant girl.  “No, not me,” replies Peter.  “Yes, you were,” says a second.  “No, really, girls, you’ve made a mistake,” replies Peter.  Then some of the others join in.  “We saw you with him when he came to town,” they insist.  “May God strike me dead if I was with him,” Peter swears, and leaves his comfortable fire out into the night.  (I was taking liberties with the dialogue, you might have guessed.”  

Can you imagine how Peter felt when he and his fellow apostles were hiding in the dark, knowing that Jesus was slowly, painfully dying on the cross? Did Peter doubt?  Did he wonder how he had ever proclaimed that Jesus was the Messiah of God?  Did he hate himself for not having been able to live up to his own promises, for running when he might have stayed by Jesus’ side?

When Mark wrote his gospel the serious persecutions of Christians had just recently begun.  Many of them had fallen away.  Some of them wanted to come back.  Mark shows in his portrayal of Peter that Peter is not beyond redemption.  We know the re3st of the story, which will be concluded next Sunday.  But we are like Peter.  When things are going well, we feel like we are on top of the world; but when something difficult is asked of us, we often fail.  Some days we are full of faith, on others we doubt; and sometimes the doubt is painful.  

In the original gospel of Mark, it ends with the young man in the tomb telling the women to tell Jesus' disciples that he will meet them in Galilee. And Mark in telling this story assures his readers that JEsus waitsfor us, Jesus uses our doubt to strengthen our faith; Jesus knows our weaknesses and forgives our failure if we but ask.  YOu and I are Peter, if not today, sooner or later.  And Peter is offered redemption over and over again.  And so are you and I.