Category: Prayer

Today’s readings

Generally speaking, we just hate to look at people suffering. Many people just can’t bring themselves to go to visit a loved one in the hospital or a nursing home, because they are so uncomfortable with the pain of others. Sometimes in our daily travels we may see a person who is disfigured or who has some sort of handicap, and we immediately look away, not wanting to stare, but even more, not wanting to come to terms with the burden they bear. This is the way the suffering servant is portrayed in today’s first reading. The suffering servant is one who is completely unremarkable in appearance. We wouldn’t even notice him walking down the street if we saw him. Yet this is the Messiah. Even more though, he takes upon himself every form of suffering: public scorn, harsh treatment, bodily affliction, oppression, sin and infirmity. Now we would not only not notice him, but we’d actually prefer to avoid him at all costs.

What kind of Savior is this? Well, this is the kind of Savior who would go willingly to the Cross, knowing its pain, taking its burden, forsaking all for the glory of God. This is the kind of Savior who reached out to everyone who came to him on the way of the Cross, because he was committed to the mission of reaching out to all the lost. This is the kind of Savior who could look down from the Cross, in the midst of agony and among his last breaths, and take care of a grieving mother and a weeping friend. This Savior knows our pains and knows our sufferings and is not embarrassed to look upon them, and even to take them on himself for our salvation.

We have a Savior who is well acquainted with our weakness. This Savior sits next to you when you sit at the bedside of a dying family member. This Savior agonizes with you when your children make wrong choices. This Savior weeps with you when someone important to you is taken from your life much too soon. This Savior weeps with you, and embraces you and takes your suffering upon himself. It might be hard to look at the Cross today, but we venerate that Cross because we have been loved from it and we have been redeemed by it.

Today's readings

Washing the feet of guests was a common practice in Jesus' time. In those days, people often had to travel quite a distance to accept an invitation to a feast or celebration. And they would travel that distance, not by car or train or even by beast of burden, but most often on foot. The travelers' feet would then become not only dirty from the dusty roads, but also hot and tired from the long journey. It was a gesture of hospitality to wash the guests' feet, but it was a gesture that was supplied not by the host of the gathering, but instead by someone much lower in stature, usually a servant or slave. But at the Last Supper, it is Jesus himself who wraps a towel around himself, picks up the bowl and pitcher, and washes the feet of his friends. This, to me, is a great example of what Scripture scholars call kenosis.

I had a Scripture teacher who always used to talk about kenosis. During my seminary days, we went through some pretty rough times with the Church. Just two weeks after we started, we had the tragedy of 9/11. Along with the rest of the country, we all felt like the bottom had dropped out and nothing was really certain any more. Then, the following spring, the sexual abuse scandal broke wide open, and so many of us wondered what we were getting ourselves into. Many of us had personal tragedies as well, me included when both of my parents were diagnosed with cancer just one month apart from each other. We ended our time in seminary with the tragic death of two of our brother seminarians in a car crash on the school grounds. Life is like that, we all have things that we go through and we wonder why we go on, why we even try to live as disciples. And I remember whenever we would express that, one of my Scripture teachers would always look at us and say, "It's all about kenosis."

At first when we heard that we looked at him like most of you are looking at me right now. But we came to know what kenosis meant. It is a New Testament Greek word that basically means "self-emptying." It comes from the root word kenos which is used to describe places or vessels that are empty, or to describe people who are empty handed or arrive without a gift. Kenosis in the New Testament sense is used to describe Jesus Christ, who as St. Paul says in his letter to the Philippians, "emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross." Christ emptied himself of the honor that was rightfully his as our God and took our own human form. That's kenosis.

So this evening's Gospel is not a simple call to show more hospitality to our guests, but instead a call to kenosis. It's a call to get over ourselves, to empty out all the glory we think we deserve, so that we can be empty vessels to be filled up with Christ. That's an easy thing to say, but I know first-hand that it's hard to do. Being the person up here leading worship can be a very ego-boosting experience. But I also know that it's when I remember that it's not about me that I find worship most prayerful, and, from your comments, you find it most prayerful then too. And I have to struggle to remember that it's not about me: that it's not my Mass, or my ministry, or even my life. And even though I know I have good days and bad days on that score, the day I stop at least struggling with it is the day I know I will have stopped being a priest, and stopped being a disciple. Because it is only through kenosis in my own life, by emptying myself out, that Christ can work in me.

And that's true of you too. All of us disciples are called to abandon themselves. Whatever your vocation in life, you will do it best when you let Christ work in you. Because the parent who puts himself or herself first will be completely unsuccessful – you know that. And the spouse who puts self first will never have a relationship with the other. Single people's lives are beautiful when they are lived as an outreach to others. And those who work in any kind of business are most successful when they help others to succeed. But before we get caught up in some kind of misguided new-age "pay it forward" mentality, let's also remember that for the Christian disciple, this self-emptying is not about us feeling better about ourselves because we've done nice things for others. Real Christian kenosis means that sometimes this kind of self-emptying will feel lousy, and won't be appreciated, and won't bring any hope of immediate reward. But we pour ourselves out anyway, because that is what our Christ asked us to do, and because that is how our God will be glorified.

Another aspect of our own call to kenosis is that sometimes we have to empty out the part of us that desperately wants to do everything for ourselves, and to let someone else minister to us in our need. I told you about my parents both being sick when I was in seminary. That was such a hard time for me, mostly because I was still really convinced that I could get through anything life threw at me on my own. But I had to learn that sometimes I need to let my friends pick me up and carry me to Jesus when I couldn't get there on my own. I'm bad at that. I'm like Peter – no one's going to wash my feet. But I learned that I have to get over that if I'm ever going to be empty enough for Christ to fill me up. It's not about me – and it can't be about any of us, we who would take up our crosses to follow our Lord.

There's another part of this Gospel that really strikes me. You heard me tell you about the practice of washing the feet of guests in Jesus' day. When do you think their feet would be washed? Immediately upon arriving, of course. But that's not what happens here. The Gospel reading says that during the supper, Jesus rose, changed his clothes, and washed their feet. That's a detail that would really stick out to those hearing the story in that day. And Jesus didn't wash their feet at that time because he forgot before, or just noticed how dirty their feet were. He had a very specific reason for washing their feet during the meal. Because now that great act of kenosis would be forever intimately tied to the celebration of the Eucharist. Because of the very precise timing of this act of service, we who receive the Eucharist now know that we are called to follow Jesus' example and to pour ourselves out in service to our brothers and sisters. Every time we are fed by our Lord, we must always remember that we are called by our Lord to empty ourselves and become the presence of Christ for those who share life with us.

On this great night, as we begin the great three-day feast of our Savior's triumph over sin and death, we come together to share a meal – the same meal he shared with his friends on that night so long ago. And because we Catholics don't remember this night with mere fond recollections, but by entering into the experience in all its fullness yet again, we have to hear the same commandment Jesus gave his disciples: "If I, therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another's feet. I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do." As we gather and come forward to do this in remembrance of Christ, may we also pour ourselves out each day for our brothers and sisters, lovingly washing their feet just as ours have been washed by our Saving Lord.

Today’s readings

The time draws near. Everything is in place. Jesus celebrates the Passover one last time with his disciples, and in the course of it, gives them his own Body and Blood as an everlasting remembrance of him, a sacramental offering that will draw people to Christ until the end of time. Today is the last full day of Lent. Tomorrow we will enter the Paschal Triduum, that great three-day day that gives thanks for the Lord’s Body and Blood poured out for us, that remembers his Passion and death, and that keeps vigil for his resurrection. This day will bring untold activity for all of us, I know that. But as the day ends, I invite you all, along with me, to take time to quiet ourselves to give thanks, and to remember, and to keep vigil. The time draws near.

Today’s readings

Four words in today’s Gospel absolutely gave me chills as I read them. Those words are, “And it was night.” We hear those right after Judas takes the morsel of bread and heads out to do what he must do. Satan has entered him. The death of our Lord approaches. And it was night. The night was not just physical darkness or even the hour of the day. The night is the time when all of the sins of the world have converged upon Jesus Christ and he will take them to the Cross. The darkness of all of the sins of the world have made it a very dark night indeed. In these Holy days, we see the darkness that our Savior had to endure for our salvation. May we find courage in the way he triumphed over this fearful night.

Today’s readings

There are two things going on in today’s Scripture readings. First, we have the Jews, and now Judas among them, who are very jealous of Jesus and are seeking to arrest and kill him. And not just him, but anyone who encourages people to believe in him, like Lazarus in today’s Gospel. For them it was all about them, and not at all about the God they supposedly believed in and served. Second, we have Mary, who pours out the most expensive thing she has for love of the Lord. It’s not at all about her, and she understands in some way where this is all headed. So we have the jealousy of the Jews and Judas against the love and generosity of Mary. In these Holy days, we are called to be Mary, to pour ourselves out in love and generosity, even when the jealousy of the world around us would try to prevent that.

Today’s readings

Today, and throughout this Holy Week, we have in our Liturgy a stark reminder that the hope that we have in the Resurrection was purchased at a great price. Life in our world today would prefer to ignore the Cross. And with good reason. Because the Cross is embarrassing. Until Christianity, no religion worth its salt would base itself on a god who suffered an ignoble death that was reserved for the most obstinate of criminals. And, you know, we’d rather not dwell on pain, would we? We live in an age where there is a pill for every minor pain and a treatment for every discomfort. In and of itself, this is not a bad thing, but then we can often take it farther and find ways to mask any pain, physical or psychological, that comes our way, and this is not healthy.

The Cross is an in-your-face reminder that pain is part and parcel of our life of salvation. Jesus did not come to take away our pain, he came to redeem it. Not only that, he came to take it on himself. Far from being embarrassed by our sin and pain, Jesus took it to the cross, redeeming our brokenness, and leaving us an everlasting promise that there is no pain too great for our God to bear and there is no way we can ever fall so far that our God can’t reach us. There is a theological principle that basically says “whatever Jesus did not assume, that was not redeemed.” But Jesus left none of that behind on the way to the cross. He took our every hurt, our every pain, our every sin, our every shame, our every resentment, our every emptiness, and left them all there at the foot of the Cross.

I know there are many among us now who are carrying pain with them each day. Maybe it’s unconfessed sin, or maybe it’s a broken relationship. Maybe it’s the sadness of the illness or death of a loved one. Maybe it’s the splintering of a family. Maybe it’s a hurt that goes back to their childhood, or they’ve received a frightening diagnosis about themselves. Maybe it’s difficulty with their job or career, or trouble in a marriage. Maybe it’s a loneliness that they can’t seem to shake. For all of us who are hurting in any way, all we have to do is look at the Cross and realize that there is nothing our God won’t do for us. He may not take away our pain right away, but he will never ever leave us alone in it. And ultimately, he will raise us up out of it.

That’s the message of these Holy days. This Thursday evening, we will celebrate the giving of the Eucharist and the priesthood, so that Christ would always be present to us in the Church. On Friday afternoon and evening, we will have a chance to embrace Christ’s suffering with a reflection on the Passion, veneration of the Cross, and reception of Holy Communion. Finally, on Saturday evening, we will gather here in a darkened church to hear stories of our salvation and to celebrate Christ’s victory over sin and death. We will welcome new members into our community, and rejoice with them in our Risen Lord. I invite you to enter into all of it, embracing the suffering, and being caught up in the celebration.

Today’s readings

God is dependable. The promises he makes, he keeps, because he is truth itself and cannot do anything contrary to that truth. So he delivers poor Jeremiah, who has been denounced – even by his own friends – for speaking the truth. Just so, he delivers Jesus from the hands of the Jews, because Jesus’ words and deed all testified to the truth. When we choose to live the truth the Lord puts in our hearts, we can depend on God to deliver us from the hands of those who do not seek the truth. As the psalmist tells us today, “In my distress I called upon the Lord, and he heard my voice.”

It is difficult to witness to the truth sometimes, because in general, the world doesn’t want to hear it. The world would prefer to be deaf to the cries of the poor and the oppressed, preferring instead to attend to the convenience of big business and the wealthy. The world would prefer to ignore cries for real justice in the world, preferring instead to pacify lobbyists and others with more powerful voices. The world would prefer to ignore the truth of the Gospel: that Jesus is the way to the Father and the only way to eternal life. But we must witness to those truths every day. We may well be persecuted. But like Jeremiah and Jesus, we can depend on our God to hear our voice and deliver us from evil. God is dependable.

Today’s readings

Today’s Liturgy of the Word helps us to reflect on God’s promises. Ever since God made the first covenant with Abraham, he has been renewing that covenant in ever stronger ways with all of the people he created and loves. Abraham was able to see the land God promised him, but could not have appreciated in his own lifetime the great nation that was to come from him. Even though we as a people have strayed from God, he never has stopped reaching out to us. The covenant now is complete with the new and everlasting covenant we have in Jesus Christ.

Jesus’ contemporaries may not have been prepared to welcome this new covenant, but it cannot be that way for us disciples. We cannot resist the covenant in favor of hanging on to our own ideas, or of clinging to some kind of late night TV infomercial pop psychology, or anything that comes from Oprah and Dr. Phil. We need to be a people who cling only to the hope that we have in Christ, giving him our lives in faith as he pours out his love for all of us.

The psalmist tells us today that “The Lord remembers his covenant forever.” Let us remember it too, and give thanks for it as we celebrate the Eucharist today.

Today’s readings

Today Jesus speaks of his death and glorification, although he does speak of this in very veiled terms. Toward the end of today’s Gospel reading, he says, “When you lift up the Son of Man, then you will realize that I AM.” What he means, of course, is that when they lift him up on the cross, they will realize that he is the Son of God, made manifest in our world. And we know that after his death, the centurion has that very revelation: “Surely this was the Son of God!” This is reflected, then, in today’s first reading. Those who look upon the golden seraph that Moses lifted up on a pole had new life, just like those who look on the Son of God lifted up on the cross have eternal life.

Today the Son of God is to be lifted up for us in the Eucharist. Each time the host and the cup are raised up, we have the opportunity to know that Jesus is the Son of God, lifted up on the cross for our salvation, present in the Eucharist for our strength. As our Eucharistic and Saving Lord is lifted up for us today, may we come to a greater awareness of his glory.