Pentecost 2019

Acts 2:1 - 11

Joan and I just got back from Orlando, where we took two grandsons to Disney World. We've now taken eleven of our nineteen there. I saw someone with a t-shirt that said, “You are never too old for Disney World”. I beg to differ. When our kids were little we took them there two or three times as well. Things have changed a lot. In addition to prices and long waits in lines, the place is crowded with people who don't speak English, at least to each other. That is a big change from when we first set foot in the place. Language is interesting; it isn't just another way of talking, it carries with it all the baggage of culture, all the ways of looking at the world that speakers of the language have. When I meet an Australian or an Englishman, to me they have outrageous accents, but our way of looking at the world overlaps. When I meet someone whose primary language is not English, even though he may speak it well, I can tell that there is a gap that humanly speaking we can't overcome in getting to know each other.

Some Jewish wise men say that the original language of Adam and Eve was Hebrew, which is spoken in heaven and will be spoken by all men at the end of time. There is a legend that if you don't stimulate a newborn baby with your language, he or she will speak Hebrew. Hebrew, to orthodox Jews, is kind of a sacred language and a serious Jew learns it.

It's the same with Muslims, God gave the Koran to Mohammed in Arabic, and there is no hope that a person who studies a translation will pick up all the nuances. If you are an Indonesian Muslim and take your faith seriously, you learn Arabic so that you can read the word of God as He intended it to be read.

We had something like that in Roman Catholicism from about the 1600's to the mid-20^th century. Latin was the language of the Church, and I heard a sermon one time talking about how Mary changed the whole course of history with one word – fiat. That means “Let it be” in Latin. But Mary didn't speak Latin. Nor did Jesus, nor St. Peter. But in the time of Jesus, I suspect everyone who spoke a particular language could tell you why it was the most natural, the most beautiful, the language spoken by the gods or God.

In the reading from the Acts of the Apostles, the striking thing is that the Spirit speaks through the apostles in all the languages of all the people in Jerusalem at that time. There is no privileged language, or perhaps every language becomes God's language – and by extension, every people, every person, is invited into that wind, that fire, that is the enveloping love of God. The people who hear the apostles are not surprised by their message, but rather, by the fact that they can understand it. But even here the Spirit is at work, Because there are some who resist the Spirit and conclude that the apostles have had too much wine and are simply babbling.

Our Church still says that the official text of the bible is the Vulgate, which is the translation into Latin prepared by St. Jerome and later revised in 1592 and again in 1979. And of course the Church does not say that Latin is the language of God, or that it is somehow privileged. The Latin text is dead, in a sense, and that's a good thing. Living languages change, but the Latin can't.

But Pentecost tells us that no language is sufficient; when God speaks to us, there will be no barrier, there will be no culturally related misunderstanding. Because the Word of God is not the Bible, the Word of God is Jesus Christ, and the Bible, whatever the translation, is the Word of God only insofar as it leads us to hear God speaking to us in His Son. And to be able to hear the Word of God through the Bible is a gift of the Holy Spirit.

We human beings like to be in control. We like to hang out with our own kind; because we know them, we know they are like us. We are anxious when forced to engage with people who are different, who don't share our language. Perhaps in our age we've learned how poisonous this attitude is; even fifty years ago everyone heard the same newscasts, read the same news magazines, and there were two syndicated organizations that provided national and world news stories to our local newspapers. Bias existed, of course, but we knew that and took it into account. And there were liberals and conservatives in those days as well, but since we all heard the same news and read the same magazines, we had common ground and could speak the language of the other; and being able to speak it, we knew that even if we disagreed, the other was sincere, and had thought things through from his own perspective, using the same data. Now we live in echo chambers. Because social media is so widespread, it's possible to go through life without even thinking about how someone else may see the world. And since our viewpoint is reinforced by what we read and never contradicted, we don't speak the same languages anymore. We kind of laugh when we hear about people who don't want to be referred to as male or female; we think it's silly when a New York City born chef who specializes in southwestern cuisine is called out for cultural appropriation; and we scratch our heads to try to figure out the difference between people who are awake and those who are woke. But it's getting worse. We are losing the ability to understand each other.

One of the many gifts the Spirit brings to the Church is that of being able to speak to all men and women, regardless of language, of political stance, of social status. And if that is a gift of the Church it's also a gift to its members. On this feast of Pentecost let us resolve to use the gift of tongues, the gift of communicating with those who are different from us, because that's what the Spirit tells us is the will of God; that's what Jesus told us when he sent us to teach all nations; that's why no human language, political party, social class, or sexual orientation can contain the word of God, the word who is Jesus Christ.

Seventh Sunday of Easter, cycle C

John 12:20 - 26

When I was growing up, I was very close to a cousin of mine. We were the same age. He lived on a farm and I lived in the city. I was tall and geeky; he was short and less geeky. He lived about 100 miles away so we didn't see each other that often, but when we did, we had a great time. In addition to jumping into mounds of hay or swimming in the pond or pretending we were flying through space in the playhouse his dad had built, we would often get into conversations about things like which car was better. His dad had a relatively new Ford and mine had an Oldsmobile. Though we knew nothing about cars, we still would argue vigorously about which was best. My dad claimed to be a republican; his father, being a farmer, was a democrat. So we argued about that, even though we had no idea why. We even argued about fruit; whether Delicious apples were better than Macintosh.

The point is, we were being very natural. It's the very nature of animals to divide the world into us vs. them, whether you are a hamster or a human being. And you always look upon them with suspicion, because you don't know them and they could hurt you. And taken to extremes, the only way you can feel comfortable is for them to become us, or for them to be eliminated. You can see this going on on college campuses, where the students rise up in protest when a politically incorrect speaker is invited. You see it when the legislature of California passes a bill giving a tax break to production companies in states where abortion is limited to encourage them to relocate to California. You see it in our politics when Joe Biden is condemned by other members of his party because he's taken a moderate position on climate change. Us vs. them is wired into our DNA.

Jesus today asks the Father that all may be one, as he and the Father are one. There are two ways of being one. In China, using cell phones and artificial intelligence, the state has defined the right way to think, and if you deviate, you have privileges taken away from you. It isn't just in China, either. If you think that access to abortion should be restricted in any way, you would not be welcomed in the Democratic party. If you think that the world should take climate change seriously and do something about it, you probably wouldn't be welcomed in the Republican party. One way to bring about unity is to insist that everyone think the same way. Us has to eliminate them.

Jesus gives us an alternative to this oneness he prays for. He talks about glory. I looked up glory in the dictionary and there are at least four meanings as nouns and two as verbs. That poor word has to work pretty hard. But Jesus had a much more specific meaning in mind. In Hebrew, the word is “kavod”, which means “heavy” and eventually came to mean a place where you could find God. And in the passage we've read from John, Jesus talks about the glory the Father gives him, and the glory which he gives his disciples. In other words, followers of Jesus have the presence of God in them. Now think about how that brings about unity. If I look at you and realize that God is present in you, I am not going to get into an us vs. them situation. After all, the most important thing about you and I is that we are both places where God dwells. And God is one, so you and I are one. If I understand that in you is the very presence of God, my reaction is not going to be to figure out how to make you think like me, nor will I want to eliminate you; I will fall down in worship, at least figuratively. I will want to serve you; I will hold you in greatest respect, I will revere you, because you are a tabernacle of the almighty, as I am. And I will see that there is no us vs them, only us. The union between us, a union of love because God is love, is so much stronger than any trivial differences that divide us. If I see your glory, and you see mine, we are one, just as Jesus and the Father are one.

This is the basis of Jesus' prayer for his followers to be one. We've missed the point a lot. We Christians have been so hung up on differences that we've forgotten to look for the glory in each other. Are the differences important? Of course. But not as important as the glory that lives in us. And maybe not just Christians. In the passage we've read Jesus is talking about his disciples, but he wants this unity not just because it's nice and if we had it we'd all get along, but as he clearly states, “so that the world will know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.” Jesus doesn't want a theoretical unity that can't be appreciated by outsiders; he wants a unity that will be obvious, that will convince the world that God loves you and I, his followers, his disciples. Because God's plan, Jesus' very purpose in becoming man, is to bring about the kingdom of heaven on earth, which we pray or every day when we say, “Thy kingdom come”. And the very nature of that kingdom is that it will be so attractive that everyone who sees it will want to become part of it. And it all begins with recognizing the divine spark in the other, and in ourselves, and seeing that this is what makes us one, this is what motivates us; this is the opposite of us vs them, this is just us, an us made up of you and I and Jesus and the Father. When we live this out, we are fulfilling Jesus' prayer at the end of his life, when he could have asked for anything, but asked only for unity among his followers, based upon the presence of God within them, which he gives us – through the Eucharist, through the Word, through the assembly of brothers and sisters who are his disciples.

So on this seventh Sunday of the Easter Season, let us resolve that the next time we find ourselves on one side and someone else on the other; the next time we find ourselves in an us vs them situation, we pause for a moment and look for the divine presence, the kavod, the glory that is there; the same glory that I possess, and when we see this what should be do next, knowing this?

Some of you probably remember Antonin Scalia, the supreme court justice who was known as a conservative strict constructionist; he was also an ardent Catholic, who went to the sacrament of penance at least once a month. His best friend on the Supreme court was Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg, who was about as different in her judicial philosophy as she could possibly be. But I suspect they recognized the divine spark in each other, and that was more important than anything else.

Sixth Sunday of Easter, cycle C

John 14:23- 29
I know of a man and woman who adopted a son.  They had already had two children, but they had room for another and took in the orphan.  They showed no favoritism and in fact the older children helped welcome the younger one into the family.  But the child kept getting into trouble.  As he grew older, he got in more serious trouble.  He dropped out of high school; married, had a child, and divorced.  He couldn't hold a job.  Every time he would fail at something, he'd come home where the family would welcome him and help him get on his feet again.  Eventually the young man left that part of the country and no one has heard from him in a couple of years.  But I suspect he knows that there will always be a place for him in that loving family, even though he's never done anything to deserve that kind of love. 
Jesus talks about peace today.  He's not talking about peace as opposed to war, because if he is, it's been 2000 years and we still don't have peace.  He's talking about personal peace.  And if we wonder what that is, I think the answer is that we have peace when we have desired something and we finally get it.  And the world can give us that kind of peace.  If I'm hungry, I desire food, and if the world gives me food, I'm at peace, for a while. If I'm bored, I can turn on the television, and I have peace for a little while.  If I've worked hard to advance in my career, and my boss promotes me and gives me a raise, I'm at peace for a while.  In fact, I think that's what moves most of us along in life; we are unsettled about something; we try to settle it, and we are at peace – for a while.  So the world can give us peace – an anemic peace, a short-lived peace, a peace that is partial and constricted.  And that's not the peace that Jesus offers. 
Imagine that you are one of the apostles.  You are sitting there at the supper table after the meal, and Jesus has been going on and on, sometimes talking to you, sometimes talking to the Father, and everyone knows that something is in the air; Jesus has been predicting his passion, and when he told you that he was going to Jerusalem, Thomas said “Let us go down with him and die with him.”  But one thing Jesus has been saying, over and over again, in different ways, is that God loves you – enough to wash your feet, enough to feed you with his very flesh; enough to make his dwelling in you.  There is no limit to God's love for you, for you personally.  And what do you have to do in return for this love?  Jesus has made it clear, you can't do anything to deserve this love and you can't do anything to make God stop loving you.  And Jesus keeps saying “believe”.  Because it's hard to believe; it's not our experience to be loved unconditionally, like the young man who was adopted.  Even with the best parents in the world, something in us is always worried that I could do something to lose the love of my mother or father, even though those of us who are parents know that that couldn't happen.  The fear of losing love is a great motivator to become civilized, but it's not the way God works. 
And what would happen if I really believed in God's unconditional love for me, whether I am the holiest monk in the world or the worst sinner? If I really believed it, I would love him back.
And that's the peace that Jesus offers; it's the same kind of peace he enjoys even as he prepares for his death.  It's the peace of knowing that he is so loved that nothing about him will be lost, everything that makes Jesus Jesus is forever with the Father.  And he tells you, “don't let your heart be troubled because I am going away, for I will come back for you.”  And he tells you, “I am sending you another advocate who will provide you with everything you need to know.”  Even if I slip away into Alzheimer's disease, the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, will not abandon me. 
If I really believed what Jesus promises, that assurance of perfect peace given out of God's love for me, I would love him back. 
And how do we love him back?  We obey his teaching.  Sometimes we think his teaching involves the ten commandments and the other rules and regulations which usually start out with “thou shalt not”.  While these are important for our spiritual health, I think the teachings of Jesus have a different character.  Here are some of the teachings of Jesus. “Come to me all you who labor and I will give you rest.”  “Love one another as I have loved you.”  “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me.”  Jesus further teaches us in his parables; in the story of the good Samaritan we learn how to identify our neighbor, whom we have been commanded to love.  Jesus' teachings are not “thou shalt not”.  Jesus' teachings are mostly about a way of life that can always be made better, more perfect, more like Jesus demonstrated in his life.  And unlike “thou shalt not” commandments, his teachings always invite us to move towards greater joy, because they ultimately lead to union with him.  Even when he says “If anyone wishes to be my disciple he must take up his cross and follow me” or when he says “whoever will lose his life for my sake will find it” and “whoever humbles himself will be exalted”  he is simply inviting us to imitate his own life, and of course that life includes resurrection and eternal life in union with the father. 
The story I told you at the beginning is a little like the story of the prodigal son, except without the happy ending, at least so far.  But I think you can appreciate that we are all like that son; we are all loved with unconditional love, love that will never close the door, will always welcome us, will offer us eternal life, not as a reward for good behavior but because that's what the Father has planned for us from the beginning because we are his sons and daughters; and all we have to do is love him back.  Believe this, because that is the peace that Jesus gives, that is the peace that he has.

Fifth Sunday of Easter, cycle C

John 13:31-33a, 34-35

When I was very young, about three years old, my mother and father, without asking me, had another child, my sister. At first I was intrigued although I would probably have preferred a brother, or at least a puppy. But as time went on I began to notice things had changed. My attempts to get attention were not being answered, especially when she was awake. And sometimes I was being told to be quiet, so that she could sleep. Needless to say, as the two of us got older, there were many times when we got into conflicts. And my parents would tell me to quit teasing her or annoying her because, get this, she was my sister. And the reverse was true. Many disagreements were nipped in the bud because of the reminder that we were brother and sister. My sister and I are not at all alike. If we weren't related, we probably wouldn't have any sort of relationship.

I don't fight with my sister anymore. Sadly, we live on opposite sides of the country and are so involved in our own lives that we don't have much to communicate about. But in my daily prayers I always remember her.

I think it's interesting that Jesus tells his disciples that he is giving them a new commandment. You can look up all kinds of speculation as to why this is a new commandment; after all, way back in Deuteronomy the Jews were commanded to love your neighbor as yourself. And you can find authorities from other religions who say similar things. One idea is that Jesus urges his disciples to love each other as he loves them – in other words, the new commandment means to be willing to sacrifice oneself for the other. But Jesus died for all humanity and I can't do that, so maybe that isn't the reason. Another idea is that Jesus is commanding his disciples to love beyond the bounds of family or tribe or race, and that seems to be strengthened by his parable about the Good Samaritan. But even though there are people around who claim to love humanity, I don't think those words mean anything. Love isn't anything unless it leads to action. So how did Jesus love his disciples? In practical terms, he invited them into his family. When we meet Jesus' disciples in the scriptures, there's a lot there not to like. Peter is always speaking before he thinks, and in the end his boast that even if the others rejected Jesus, he never would, proved to be hollow. James and John asked Jesus if they should call down lightning on people who did not accept his message. They picked up the nickname “Sons of Thunder” And we will never forget Judas. We don't think about it too much, but over the years of Jesus' ministry, he never gave up on them, even though they often failed to understand him. And in the end he proclaims that they are no longer servants, but friends.

Notice that Jesus tells his disciples to love one another. I have loved, in the sense of having deep friendship with, people of other faiths and of no faith at all. This is all well and good. But we believe that even though God loves every human being as much as God can love, we become brothers and sisters of Jesus through baptism; we become members of his family. And while I can love someone not in the family, he commands me to love those who are in the family just as he loved them. And in the original Greek, Jesus uses the word “philos” which is the love between brothers and sisters, not “agape” which is the love that sacrifices oneself. Higb And that may be where we could all use some work, myself no exception. Because you and I are a family. We are a family by baptism, and by intention, since we come together around the family supper table to share the Lord's supper. But for many of us, that's where it ends. We see the same faces every Sunday because we usually sit in the same pews; we exchange a sign of peace – a handshake or a wave or maybe we wiggle our fingers; but does the relationship ever get any deeper? Do we do anything to invite that brother or sister into a deeper relationship in which love begins to be possible? My efforts could definitely use work, and probably yours could as well.

Jesus is saying that the way we should love each other is the way he loves us – and yet, we are mostly indifferent to each other.

So how do we change things? As usual, little by little. First, there has to be a little courage, to take the first step. Today as you leave Church why not go up to someone you don't know and introduce yourself? Exchange a little information. Now you have a new brother or sister, and it will be easier to talk with that person next Sunday. And it will feel good as well, because we are after all social creatures. And the next time you have some time on your hands and feel the urge to get involved in something, look to your parish community first, before you get involved in some other activity. We brothers and sisters have to stick together, we have to support each other. And the next time you are talking with a friend and some third party begins to get dissected, if that third party is your brother or sister, you have no business letting that kind of thing go on. This is a good parish; we are lucky to have so much going on, we are fortunate to be a fairly wealthy parish. But I think we could all do better following Jesus new commandment.

Because Jesus doesn't give us his new commandment, to love one another as he loves us, just to make everyone feel good. He does it because that is what he wants for the whole human race, and it starts with us. If we love one another as brothers and sisters, as members of the same family, making the relationships between us a priority, not in the abstract but in concrete ways, people will notice. And if people see something good they will be attracted; and some of those who are attracted will join us and become part of the movement Jesus came to start. He said, “I came to cast fire upon the earth and I wish it were already burning!” And if people are to see that we are his disciples, then we have to love each other. We don't love each other because it feels good. In our love for each other, is there the possibility that someone observing us would say, “those must be disciples of Jesus!” That's the yardstick to measure our love.

Fourth Sunday of Easter, cycle C

John 10:27 - 30

When I grew up in Montana, we didn't have television until I was about fourteen, and we could only get two radio stations. There was a movie running at the local theater, but most of the time we sought out live entertainment. In addition to watching high school sports, we had rodeos, where cowboys would compete for prizes by riding bulls and horses trained to buck, and roping calves. And now and then shepherds would have contests as well. In fact, if you have the time and the money, the national “trail of the sheep” event takes place in October in Idaho.

Sheep that are raised for food are often raised like cattle, in pens, fed grain, and slaughtered as soon as they reach a certain weight. But sheep raised for wool need to hang around a long time to get a reasonable yield. And those are the sheep that are still looked after by a shepherd, when I was growing up and it's still true today, sheep ranchers would often hire shepherds from other countries – because they would work for food and shelter and a very small wage. And in the mountains around my home town these were Basques from Spain. I worked in a grocery store and they would come down every month or so to stock up on supplies and then go back to their sheep. When it came time to harvest wool, they relied on expert shearers – you can still see them at the Big E – so they would bring their sheep to a common area where the wool would be collected and baled and sent away to be turned into cloth. In addition to seeing which shearer could denude a sheep the fastest, another contest, still with the same rules today as then, required that a shepherd call his sheep to himself, walk the sheep over a predetermined course, and separate the sheep into two groups. He did this with his sheepdog. I'm sure glad they invented Netflix.

But the point is that the shepherd has to form a relationship with his sheep, and vice versa. If you are driving cattle to market, cowboys use dogs and whips and lots of yelling. This works for cows, because they have a very strong instinct to stay together. But sheep don't. If you beat a sheep or yell at it, it will probably leave the first chance it gets. We human beings are like that in a way. We don't like physical or mental abuse either. And in circumstances where this is what the voice is doing, we can be sure that it's not the voice of our shepherd. If I am being ordered or threatened or condemned, that's not my shepherd's voice.

Sheep have been hanging around with humans for 5000 years, and as a result are not very smart. They can't see very well, and rely on hearing, taste and smell. Left to their own devices, they tend to spend all their time eating or sleeping. We human beings are a little like this, especially some of my grandchildren, if you add in video games. It's hard to defer gratification. Politicians know this, because their approach to getting elected is to promise things that won't require sacrifice. Sheep have to understand, as far as sheep can, that it would be better to follow the shepherd than to follow their instincts. Even though we are always attracted to instant gratification, we all know that when we are being told to do whatever makes us feel good, we can be sure that is not the voice of our shepherd.

So how do you know when you are hearing your shepherd's voice? The same way sheep do. They have experienced the care of the shepherd. They've had the shepherd remove brambles and other irritants from their growing wool. They've been led to good grazing grounds and fresh water. They've seen the shepherd drive away predators. And the more they've been cared for, the more they associate that care with the voice of the one who leads them. In fact, older sheep even seem to enjoy being sheared; they've learned that losing 20 pounds of wool is liberating!.

A sheep that hangs around his shepherd is going to recognize the shepherd more when it faces a new or disturbing situation. We are like that as well. And we don't think about it sometimes, but that's the whole point of the church – it's the way our shepherd set up to care for his sheep. That's why we talk about the church being the body of Christ. The church exists to spread Christ's message, it is true, but it's most important task is to care for Jesus' sheep.

When you are baptized you become part of the good shepherd's flock. When you receive the Eucharist you are being fed by the shepherd. When you receive the sacrament of reconciliation you are being healed. When you come together in the assembly to hear the word of god you are being given what you need to form you conscience so that you can make the right choices in your life and better follow the will of the shepherd. When you come before the blessed sacrament to pray, to meditate, or even to rest, you are finding peace because your shepherd is there, making you lie down in green pastures.

Some sheep resist being shepherded. In that they are like humans; they all have different personalities and quirks. A sheep will leave the herd now and then, but a real shepherd does not leave his flock to go find the lost sheep; when Jesus told that parable about the lost sheep, the reason it was so radical is that everyone knew real shepherds wouldn't do that, it would be foolish. The lost sheep is likely to become dinner for a wolf pack. But some escape this fate. If they can find a few other wild sheep they might stand a chance – but even then its hard to survive, because sheep that aren't sheared periodically can grow so much wool that it becomes a liability, and to be caught in a rainstorm means that your wool coat may pick up a suffocating weight of rainwater. Sheep don't know it, but a sheep cannot survive without a shepherd, and some people don't know that we can't hope for eternal life without listening to our shepherd..

So let us go where we are cared for; let us submit ourselves to our shepherd's care, and we will increasingly hear his voice and more and more be the sheep of his flock.

Third Sunday of Easter, cycle C

John 21:1 -19

My grandmother on my father's side stood out among all my relatives. She was a hugger. My mother's parents were both first generation German, and the ten children grew up on a farm. They showed affection by teasing each other, but didn't hug. My Grandfather on my Father's side didn't hug either, and none of my cousins did at least when we were kids. And my wife comes from a similar background of non-huggers. I think one of the reasons we were attracted to each other was because we didn't naturally hug. Nevertheless, we ended up with six children. We didn't think our family was unusual until one day we were at church somewhere in another town, and at the sign of peace, several people turned to each other and hugged. At that my youngest daughter, about six I think, tugged on my coat and with a worried expression on her face, remarked, “Dad, Higbys don't hug.”.

A lot of people, myself included, have problems with intimacy. Couples are often counseled to say, “I love you” to each other frequently. That's because intimacy has to be expressed. I think among some couples and in some families it takes a lifetime to develop real intimacy, and it's not helped when a child who has reached out is ignored or even rebuffed. And it happens a lot, even when a parent means well or doesn't recognize that cry for intimacy.

In our Gospel reading, we need to recall that other time when there was a charcoal fire – when Peter was warming himself in the courtyard of the high priest. And Peter three times denied that he knew Jesus, just as Jesus had predicted. Luke says that after this denial Jesus glanced at him and Peter went out and wept. Think of how Peter must have felt. He had been one of Jesus' closest friends; he'd been the first to recognize that Jesus was the Messiah. He'd been told that he was the rock on which Jesus would build his church. He'd even sworn that he would die with Jesus. And after the three-fold denial, he didn't even have an opportunity to beg Jesus for forgiveness. I don't know if any of the other apostles witnessed this; it seems when you read the gospels that only Peter got into that courtyard. But I wonder about those days after the Resurrection. When Jesus first appeared, did Peter dare look him in the eye? And the second time, when Thomas was there, was Peter off in the corner hoping he wouldn't be noticed? And then they go back to Galilee and wait. And finally Peter, fed up with standing around waiting, tells the others he is going fishing. And off they go.

When we are ashamed of something we've done, we often retreat into the familiar. That was a common response among my children. We'd have an argument, and it often ended with the child going to her room and closing the door, sometimes forcefully. Peter was no different. He was a fisherman, and this was an honorable profession. He probably enjoyed his work and his place in the community. Filled with shame, he hoped that going out on the water and doing what he did best would help. But it didn't. The whole night they caught nothing. You could say that without Jesus, their efforts were wasted and I think that's something the gospel writer wants us to think about, especially when the stranger on the shore tells them to throw the net on the other side of the boat – and they make a huge catch. And then they recognize that it is the Lord.

Peter has lived with his shame and by now wants desperately to apologize; he throws himself into the water and is the first one by the charcoal fire. It says the apostles knew it was the Lord but none dared say anything. Perhaps they all were feeling a little shame, having deserted him when he needed them the most.

Peter is a nickname. The Lord gave it to Simon. It means “Rocky” or something like that. I suspect Jesus was referring to Peter's future role – that he would be the rock on which Jesus' church would be built -- but maybe there was irony here as well. Rocky had crumpled at the first sign of pressure, there on that awful night. Notice that the Lord does not use the nickname here. He calls Peter by his given name, Simon, son of John. That's formal; Jesus is being very serious. I am sure seared into Peter's memory is that threefold denial by a charcoal fire. And Jesus invites Peter to revisit that moment of betrayal. He doesn't point out that Peter betrayed him. He doesn't make excuses for Peter, or gloss over what happened. Jesus says, “Do you love me more than these?” Many authorities think “these” refers to Peter's trade, his family, his home, his boat – the comfortable life he left to follow Jesus. The gospel writer has Jesus using the word for sacrificial love, agape. Peter responds that he loves Jesus using the word meaning love between brothers, philo. Jesus asks a second time, using the word for sacrificial love, and again Peter in reply uses the word for brotherly love. Finally, Jesus in his third question, uses the word for brotherly love, to which Peter, now hurt by the repeated questioning, replies that Jesus knows everything, he knows Peter loves him – like a brother. We don't pick up this exchange because we only use one word for love. But I think we miss something that was probably understood by the people who read this gospel in the original – Peter has learned from his own experience that he can't trust himself to love in that sacrificial way, and when he admits that, twice, Jesus lets him off the hook by using the word for brotherly love himself.

It might have sounded something like this: Jesus: Simon Johnson, is your love for me stronger than your love for anything else? Peter: Yes, Lord, you are like a brother to me. Jesus: Simon Johnson, is your love for me strong enough to die for me? Peter: Yes Lord, you are like my own flesh and blood. Jesus: Simon Johnson, do you love me like a brother, at least? Peter: Lord, you know all things, you know I love you like a brother!. Now when Jesus goes on to predict how Peter will die, it makes a little more sense. Jesus is essentially saying that you may not love me enough to die for me now, but someday you will.

This gospel tells us that true knowledge of God requires intimacy – with the person of Jesus, who is God's word. And intimacy must be expressed. We are seeing more and more people label themselves as spiritual but not religious. A lot of bad things have happened because of religious people, its true. But real love, intimate love, needs to be expressed. That's what worship is all about, the kneeling and standing, the singing of hymns, the recitation of the Lord's prayer together, the very act of coming to church rather than finding something more exciting or interesting to do. And Peter is on his way to learning that.

And I think huggers have an advantage over non-huggers, because they are comfortable expressing their affection physically. And religious people who are spiritual have an advantage over those who are merely spiritual for the same reason – they have a venue where they can express their love of God among their fellow lovers, and that at least has the potential to make love grow.

Second Sunday of Easter, 2019

John 20:19 - 31

One of the many joys of being a grandfather is that you can get away with telling your young grandchildren fantastic stories and they believe you! We all go through that stage where we do not doubt. I have a memory of when I was about three or four, when I was teased by my grandfather and one of his friends. They insisted that I had a tail, and all I had to do was turn around and I could see it. But of course the more I turned, the region in which the tail was supposed to be also turned. I did not doubt, though.

Probably every Christian has a little sympathy for Thomas, who because of this short gospel story, has been known as the Doubter for two thousand years. Thomas who said to the other disciples, “Let us go down to Jerusalem with him to die with him”. Thomas who probably traveled as far as Paul did, founding churches up and down the gulf of Arabia and into India. Thomas who died a martyr. And I think we misinterpret Christ's words to him: “Thomas, you have believed because you have seen; blessed are those who have not seen, but believe.” It is not a rebuke of Thomas, I think, but rather, a recognition of the fact that believers are that way because of a special grace from God. John makes it clear in his gospel that belief is a gift, not something that comes about because you've reasoned to it. Belief, even that of Thomas, is always a gift. But I'd like to look at something else today.

Why do the gospel writers record the resurrection appearances that they do? According to John and Paul Jesus appeared many other times; and if we believe Sister Faustina, He continues to appear to some of his followers even today. So why these appearances? It isn't just to impress us, or convince us that Jesus rose from the dead. One purpose is to show us where we can find Jesus.

The first point made by all the writers is that if you look into the tomb, you will not find Jesus. The angel emphasizes this: Why are you looking for the living one among the dead? The tomb is empty and it is a promise to us that our tombs will be empty some day. Perhaps it reminds us not to regard Jesus as someone “up there” who no longer moves among his people.

The second point is that for many of the appearances Jesus is at first not recognized. In Luke, when Jesus appears to the twelve,“They thought He was a ghost.” Jesus has to convince them that he really has risen from the dead by showing them his wounds and eating something. And you remember the other appearances. Mary Magdalene doesn't recognize Jesus until he calls her by name. The two disciples on the way to Emmaus don't recognize him until he breaks bread with them. When the seven apostles describe in John go fishing in Galilee, eventually the Beloved disciple, the one who previously believed because of his great love, recognizes Jesus first, and this triggers recognition in the others. What does all this mean? I think it means that the Risen Jesus is with us; we don't see Him most of the time. If we did, we would not have a need for faith; we would not be able to make a choice; and Jesus wants us to choose to love him, not force it on us.

But he is with us nonetheless. When we read the gospel story today, we should note that John has Jesus appearing among his disciples on the first day of the week, and again on the eighth day. That is deliberate. John wants us to note that Jesus can be found in the assembly of believers; among those who come together to worship. Jesus himself told us that when two or three are gathered in his name, there he was.

When we remember the two disciples on the way to Emmaus, we should note that as they rushed back to tell the apostles of the fact that they had met the Risen Lord, they spoke about how their hearts were burning within them as he interpreted the scriptures for them. Jesus is present in the scriptures, specifically, when they are being interpreted, when they are being read prayerfully and with the help of the Holy Spirit. It is so unfortunate when Christians don't read the scriptures, or read them superficially, or read them as some kind of text book. Truly, they should read them together, perhaps in small groups, because the meaning is not in the mere words but is in the interpretation of those words. Someone once said that the bible is not inspired until it is read by someone with the help of the Holy Spirit.

In the time after the Resurrection Jesus is recognized by the Emmaus disciples and by the seven disciples on the shore in the breaking of the bread. We Catholics hold that in the Mass the bread and the wine become the body and blood of Christ, as do many other Christian bodies. And there are Christian bodies who do not believe that. Some believe that the bread and wine remain, but Jesus becomes present; some believe that the action is only a symbol; and there are some, like the Mormons, who don't even believe you need bread and wine, because the acting out of a sacred meal is all that matters. But every Christian body has a ritual in which they try to carry out Jesus' command, to do this in memory of him; and that is the third place we can find Jesus; in the breaking of the bread in his memory.

Every Christian can seek the presence of Jesus in the assembly of fellow Christians, in the scriptures prayerfully read and studied; and in the breaking of the bread. And there are two more situations where Jesus can be discovered. One is when he is sought with deep love. We see this in Mary Magdalene, who weeps at the tomb, who cries out, “where have you taken my Lord?” And Jesus answers by speaking her name – the shepherd calls his sheep by name. The Beloved Disciple on seeing the empty tomb, believes because of his great love, in circumstances when Peter only wonders.

And the other, I think, is when a committed Christian struggles with doubt. To read the whole story of Thomas shows that he is as much a true disciple of Jesus as the rest of them; both before and after the Resurrection. But Thomas has honest doubts, and the Lord knows that doubt is part of being human. Mother Theresa reported to her confessor that most of her life she struggled with doubt; and yet she is a saint. Doubt is normal, and when we face our doubt, when we realize that a condition for faith is doubt, (because when we are certain of something it's no longer faith), it is then the Jesus shows us his hands and feet, and invites us to touch him and doubt no longer.

Jesus has risen from the dead. He is already here among us. He has shown us where to find him. And sadly, some of us will not bother to look for him.