¡Resucitó!

“He venido para que tengan vida, vida en abundancia”

 

¡Resucitó, Aleluya!  Alegría porque resucitó.  Se dice que nosotros, la gente que habla español tanto en la vieja España como eh el llamado Nuevo Mundo, somos gente de Viernes Santo.  Gente que vive a cabalidad los misterios de la Pasión y Muerte de Nuestro Señor y que los sentimos en lo más profundo de nuestro ser.  Testigo de esta vivencia son las procesiones. Algunas son muy famosas cono las de Sevilla en España o las de la Antigua en Guatemala.  Pero lo cierto es que tanto en nuestras grandes ciudades como en nuestros pueblos, la Semana Santa se celebra con gran solemnidad.  Y esa tradición la hemos traído a nuestras comunidades de los Estados Unidos – al Bronx, a Brooklyn, a Hempstead y a Brentwood y a Santa Brígida.

            Pero gracias a Dios y al buen trabajo de sacerdotes, religiosas, diáconos y laicos comprometidos y bien informados, cada día se va entendiendo más y mejor que la celebración de la Pascua de Resurrección es la fiesta más importante del año.  Porque tal como dice San Pablo, “si el Señor no hubiese resucitado, en vano sería nuestra fe”.  Evidencia de que nuestro Pueblo va entendiendo es la gran cantidad de gente que llega a celebrar la GRAN NOCHE, la Vigilia de Pascua y que el número de los que llegan a las Misas simultáneas del domingo de Pascua es prácticamente igual a los que llegan el Domingo de Ramos.   Gracias a Dios porque nuestra fe crece y se fortalece basada en la Palabra.

            En las lecturas que narran el más grande misterio de nuestra fe, encontramos que los discípulos no reconocen inmediatamente al Maestro.  Toma un acto de fe de su parte igual que requiere una gran fe de nuestra parte creer.

La Iglesia nos da cincuenta días para celebrar, para recordar, para ejercitar nuestra fe, para profundizar en y vivir este gran misterio. Aprovechemos este tiempo glorioso porque resucitó y Él es nuestra alegría y nuestro gozo.

The Victory Parade

 

I’ve had the privilege of seeing a few ticker tape parades down the “Canyon of Heroes” in lower Manhattan in New York City.  One was for the 1986 World Champion New York Mets.  The other for the football Super Bowl Champion New York Giants in 2012. These parades date back to the 1800s, celebrating the dedication of the Statue of Liberty and the centennial of the inauguration of George Washinton.  They would continue all the way through modern times, with the celebration of our astronauts, the released hostages that had been held in Iran and the exhausted healthcare workers who labored during the recent pandemic, just to name a few.

It is exhilarating to celebrate great victories and accomplishments.  We love a winner.  It makes us feel great to see a winner and to be part of the celebration.  On Palm (Passion) Sunday, we prepare to celebrate the greatest victory ever.  As Jesus enters Jerusalem, it is not ticker tape that waves and blows in the wind, it is palm.  The people praise the victor. The victory, while yet to come, will be for them and for all.

Another procession in Jerusalem would soon come.  This parade, of sorts, would not feature people waving palm branches.  No ticker tape would be thrown.  Tears of his mother and of those few close ones, who were brave enough to stick around, would be what flowed.  Many of those who a few days ago were all smiles and who had sung Hosanna would be hiding in the shadows.  One would betray him.  One would deny three times even knowing him.  His proud mother would weep and soon hold the victor’s dead body in her arms.

This was a different kind of parade for a different kind of victory.  It wasn’t a baseball or football championship.  It wasn’t astronauts landing on the moon.  All of those and more were accomplishments to celebrate, no doubt, but this parade on the Via Dolorosa (The Suffering Way) would be the victory over the greatest evils of all time; sin and death. 

 

As great as the accomplishments that were celebrated at the Canyon of Heroes were, they would fade away.  The ticker tape would be swept away.  The achievements would be recorded in a record or history book to be looked up as a historical fact for generations to come, but none would have the profound and lasting effect of what was accomplished on Calvary, once for all. 

 

The victory of Jesus not meant to be a memory of a moment in history, but rather a victory accomplished yesterday, today and forever.  It is the reason we have to be hopeful and joyful today and for all times.  It is what we rest our very hope in. 

Have no doubt, there does seem to be moments when we are losing the fight, when division, selfishness, greed, violence, and all other sin seems to be winning.  It seems that death gets the final word. That, of course, is a false reality.  The true reality exists in not what is mere wishful thinking, but a very real reason to be hopeful.  The way to Calvary would be filled with sorrow, but it would end in great joy.  In the great fight, sin and death do not get the final word.  The resurrected Jesus, even though showing the marks of the nails and the wound in his side, gets the glorious victory.  Sin and death are defeated.  With that victory, let us wave palm branches and ticker tape and everything we can get our hands on, for the greatest victory has been achieved for me and for you. Time for a parade.

- The Servant

 

 

 

Fifth Sunday of Lent

John 12:20-33

 

“And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself.”  John12: 32

 

          In 2004 Josh Groban helped make famous a beautiful song entitled “You Raise Me Up.”  It is a song that speaks to our faith.  It reminds us of God’s transformative power to transcend our human weaknesses and have the strength to become true agents of God’s love for His people.

          I remember the first time I heard this song.  Quite honestly, my first thoughts were not of God, but of my own father as I heard the words, “I am strong, when I am on your shoulders.”   I immediately and spontaneously  (and tearfully) had the image of myself as a toddler riding on Daddy’s shoulders, feeling so delighted – and so loved.  And, of course, that memory just led me to appreciate the remaining lyrics as a reminder of the more important ways that my father lifted me up.  In the scant 20 years I had him in my life (he died young) he taught me all I needed to know to become a man.  He truly raised me up  “…to be more than I can be.”  More than anything my dad taught me to always trust in God in every situation, and to always do the right thing no matter the cost.  His love for me came with sacrifice, of course.  The usual sacrifices of a man for his family, but more.  Sacrifices he had made in his life based on his faith and convictions.  He was exempt from military service during World War II, but went anyway.  And paid the price.  He was a strong believer in unions to protect the rights of workers, yet sided with management when a corrupt mob-run union tried to take over his shop. And paid the price.   He epitomized Jesus’ words, “… unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but it it dies, it produces much fruit.”

          It's all about sacrifice.  It’s all about dying and rising.  It’s all about resurrection.  To bring God’s heavenly Kingdom to the here and now.  That is what Jesus teaches us.  Throughout his earthly life Jesus constantly sacrificed for others.  Ultimately, he was lifted up on the cross at his crucifixion.  He was then lifted up to new life at His Resurrection.  The Father lifted Him up … to be more than He could be.  And God did this for us.  To lift US up and make US more than we could be.

          And today, as this gospel passage once again calls to my mind the words of Groban’s song, I cannot  help but think of another “Father.”    I speak of a great priest and a great man, Father Frank Gaeta.  Fr. Frank passed away two Sundays ago.  I think, perhaps, that it was a divine coincidence that Fr. Fank went home to the Lord on a Sunday – the day we gather to worship and commemorate that Sunday so long ago when Jesus was lifted up in resurrection by His Father. I came to know Fr. Frank when he became pastor at St. Brigid’s back in 1989 and there is not a person who knew him that I speak with who doesn’t recall how deeply Fr. Frank inspired them and made them who they are today.  Whether it’s a person who was brought back to the faith because of him; the person who converted because of him; the person who felt called to ministry, because of him; the priest who says, “He taught me how to be a priest.”   And there is hardly a person who knew him that hasn’t said at least once after hearing one of his homilies, “I felt as if he was speaking directly to me.”  And as he touched each one of our hearts individually, he built community.  A community that supported all its members in every way – in prayer and worship and love for our God; in helping each other when one or the other was going through a difficult time; in feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger and reaching out to the lost sheep.  He raised us up … to be more than we can be.

          And this did not come without sacrifice. He made the sacrifices that a priest is called to make but went above and beyond in time, energy, personal well being – no matter what the cost.  No matter what the price.  For sure, he never became famous; he never gained the prominence of, let’s say, becoming a bishop or a Cardinal. He never entered a church carrying a crozier – the crook that represents a bishop as shepherd of his flock – but no bishop I have ever known has been more of a shepherd to his flock than Fr. Frank. 

          Now, I know that this reflection may seem a bit too personal.  No one reading this knew my father; many did not know Fr. Frank.  Yet, I offer these remembrances in the hope that it will prompt the reader to think of those people in his or her life who lifted them up to be more than then they could be.  Just as the grain of wheat would only remain a grain of wheat, the words of this gospel would remain only words, but for those people in our lives who made sacrifices for us so that these words would have life.  Remember them.  Thank God for them.  Pray to them.

          And now it is up to us. Will we remain just a grain of wheat, or will we “die” and bear fruit, and lift up our brothers and sisters, in His name … to be more than they can be?

 

         “Call me Ishamel”

 

Light of Christ.

        In this week’s gospel John 3:14 -21 Jesus  gives us another example of what Christianity is about.  While having a talk with a Pharisee.  He references the past and says “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up,”    Jesus used this past reference to  explain what was to come in the future.  When Christ is lifted up on to the cross so much happens.  He gives his life and  makes a place for us in heaven. He makes the ultimate sacrifice. All he asks from us is to believe.  We are called to believe that he has taken all of our sinful behavior and washed it away.  We are called to live a new life. A life with the lord at the center.  Through  his sacrifice we are protected from the evils of the world.  Not that different than what  Moses did for the Israelites.  

     While speaking to this  Pharisee Jesus also made it clear that he did not come here to judge us.  He came to set us free.  I will admit that I have struggled with the idea that Jesus doesn’t condemn  and judge us.  I question how Jesus doesn’t judge us.  Look at the world. Look at how we interact with each other. Look at how we treat each other.  We as people judge each other all day. We pass judgement as if we are in position to do so.  Yet, there is  only one who can judge  and  still, he does not.  Jesus was sent here to free us. He was sent to free us from the “world”. The world I speak of  really is a prison.    A  world that is filled with lies, violence, hatred and negativity is a prison because it stops you from being  free.   You aren’t free if you have hatred in your heart.   You are miserable.   You aren’t free if you pass judgement of your fellow man.  You are  simply trapped in wrong thinking.  If you want true freedom, that can only come from Jesus.   You can’t be given freedom from another man.  They are just as trapped by sin as you are.  Only someone who is free can give us freedom.  The freedom that Jesus gives is true freedom. The freedom to love one another. The freedom that comes when you see the good in others.  The freedom to live a life with faith.  Faith that no matter what is  going on in your life… God is with you. That is freedom.  That’s salvation.  All you need to is to believe. 

      Jesus also spoke and compared the light of  belief and the darkness of unbelief. The light of Christ is a concept that I  toy with from time to time. What does it mean to be in the light versus darkness?  What is the light of Christ?  I think that  your life  feels very different when you have the light of Christ  in you. Not on you but in your heart and soul.  The light of Christ affects who you are.  It changes what you see.  It changes how the world sees you. That is the light of Christ that a  real believer experiences.  When I was growing up my friends  and I called it the “glow”.   When  you and Christ are in sync… you glow.  You light up the world around you from the inside out.  That’s what believing in Christ does. It lights the world.  Everyday  as believers we all have a  choice to make.   Are we going to let the world  dim the light of Christ or are we going to light up  the world up?

    In the end Jesus is the savior the world needed (and still needs). His gift of salvation  cannot be earned through hard work.  We can’t pay for it. We don’t need to even ask for it.  We must simply accept. We are called to accept  eternal life through the belief. We are called to leave the darkness and  embrace the light of  Jesus Christ so that the world can see that he is who he says he is. 

Your Name Here

This week's Gospel is John 2: 13-25.  In the reading, we hear about Jesus entering the temple to find it filled with money changers and vendors.  In His zeal, Jesus drives them all out of His father's house.  

But what struck me on this reading was toward the end, where we hear that, "While he was in Jerusalem for the feast of Passover, many began to believe in his name."  

I have been thinking a lot about the idea of "name" recently.  In many of our prayers, we ask for things in God's name, or Jesus' name.  And/or we ask that our acts bring glory to God's holy name.

And that raises a question.  When our name is literally etched in stone, what will it mean?  "John Smith" "Susan Johnson" Whatever it is.  What will the final meaning of our name be?

It is that question, for good or for bad emotional and spiritual integrity, which motivates me to do whatever good I do.  And to avoid whatever bad I avoid.  I want my name to have a meaning.  Good man.  Faithful Child of God.  I want to earn those titles.

Whether we "earn" anything from God, or whether we do good as a manner of showing appreciation for God's mercy to us, we should think of what our name will mean one day when it is etched on stone.  I know that sounds dark and bleak, but it is not meant to be.

Years ago, I attended the funeral of a neighbor, Mr. Paul Echausse.  After the Mass was over, a family friend, and the celebrating priest, Father Ed, started clapping as the casket moved down the aisle.  And a (full) church started clapping along.  Mr. Echausse had earned that, with his kindness and generosity toward his beautiful wife and eight children.  I have since thought of my life through the lens of that funeral. What will my name mean in the end?  Will I have earned such a send off as Mr. Echausse had gotten.  I ask that question not in a morose way, rather as a guide on how to live life.

What will my name mean?  And will it be used, when I depart this Earth, in a way that suggests that it was aligned with, and promoted, the Glory of God?  I hope so.

Peace be with you.

- The Older Brother